MR.  PICKWICK  ADDRESSES  THE  CLUB. 

Pickwick  Papers. 


THE 

POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS 

OF 

THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 

BY  CHARLES  DICKENS. 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

BOSTON: 

PERRY  MASON  &  CO. 

TEMPLE  PLACE. 
1884. 


PREFACE. 


An  author  who  has  much  to  communicate  under  this 
head,  and  expects  to  have  it  attended  to,  may  be  com- 
pared to  a  man  who  takes  his  friend  by  the  button  at  a 
theatre  door,  and  seeks  to  entertain  him  with  a  personal 
gossip  before  he  goes  in  to  the  play. 

Nevertheless,  as  prefaces,  though  seldom  read,  are 
continually  written,  no  doubt  for  the  behoof  of  that  so 
richly  and  so  disinterestedly  endowed  personage.  Pos- 
terity (who  will  come  into  an  immense  fortune),  I  add 
my  legacy  to  the  general  remembrance. 

It  was  observed,  in  the  preface  to  the  original  edition, 
that  the  ''Pickwick  Papers  "were  designed  for  the  in- 
troduction of  diverting  characters  and  incidents;  that 
no  ingenuity  of  plot  was  attempted,  or  even  at  that  time 
considered  very  feasible  by  the  author  in  connection 
with  the  desultory  mode  of  publication  adopted;  and  that 
the  machinery  of  the  club  proving  cumbrous  in  the 
management,  was  gradually  abandoned  as  the  work 
progressed.  Although,  on  one  of  these  points,  experi- 
ence and  study  have  since  taught  me  something,  and  I 
could  perhaps  wish  now  that  these  chapters  were  strung 
together  on  a  stronger  thread  of  general  interest,  still, 
what  they  are,  they  were  designed  to  be. 

I  have  seen  various  accounts  in  print  of  the  origin  of 
these  ''Pickwick  Papers;"  which  have,  at  all  events, 
possessed — for  me — the  charm  of  perfect  novelty.  As  1 
may  infer,  from  the  occasional  appearance  of  such  his- 
tories, that  my  readers  have  an  interest  in  the  matter,  I 
will  relate  how  they  came  into  existence. 

I  was  a  young  man  of  three-and-twenty,  when  the 
present  publishers,  attracted  by  some  pieces  I  was  at 
that  time  writing  in  the  Morning  Chronicle  newspaper 
(of  which  one  series  had  lately  been  collected  and  pub- 
lished in  two  volumes,  illustrated  by  my  esteemed  friend, 


« 


vi  PREFACE. 

Mr.  George  Cruikshank),  waited  upon  me  to  propose  a 
something  that  should  be  published  in  shilling  numbers 
—then  only  known  to  me,  or,  I  believe,  to  anybody  else, 
by  a  dim  recollection  of  certain  interminable  novels  in 
that  form,  which  used  to  be  carried  about  the  country 
by  pedlars,  and  over  some  of  which  I  remember  to  have 
shed  innumerable  tears,  before  I  had  served  my  ap- 
prenticeship to  life. 

When  I  opened  my  door  in  Furnival's  Inn  to  the 
managing  partner  who  represented  the  firm,  I  recog- 
nized in  him  the  person  from  whose  hands  I  had  bought, 
two  or  three  years  previously,  and  whom  I  had  never 
seen  before  or  since,  my  first  copy  of  the  magazine  in 
which  my  first  effusion — dropped  stealthily  one  evening 
at  twilight,  with  fear  and  trembling,  into  a  dark  letter- 
box, in  a  dark  office,  up  a  dark  court  in  Fleet  Street — 
appeared  in  all  the  glory  of  print;  on  which  memorable 
occasion — how  well  I  recollect  it  !  —  I  walked  down  to 
Westminster  Hall,  and  turned  into  it  for  half-an-hour, 
because  my  eyes  were  so  dimmed  with  joy  and  pride 
that  they  could  not  bear  the  street,  and  were  not  fit  to 
be  seen  there.  I  told  my  visitor  of  the  coincidence, 
which  we  both  hailed  as  a  good  omen;  and  so  fell  to 
business. 

The  idea  propounded  to  me  was,  that  the  monthly 
something  should  be  a  vehicle  for  certain  plates  to  be 
executed  by  Mr.  Seymour;  and  there  was  a  notion,  either 
on  the  part  of  that  admirable  humorous  artist,  or  of  my 
visitor  (I  forget  which),  that  a^'Mmrod  Club,"  the 
members  of  which  were  to  go  out  shooting,  fishing,  and 
so  forth,  and  getting  themselves  into  difficulties  through 
their  want  of  dexterity,  would  be  the  best  means  of 
introducing  these.  I  objected,  on  consideration,  that 
although  born  and  partly  bred  in  the  country,  I  was  no 
great  sportsman,  except  in  regard  of  all  kinds  of  locomo- 
tion ;  that  the  idea  was  not  novel,  and  had  been  already 
much  used;  and  it  would  be  infinitely  better  for  the 
plates  to  arise  naturally  out  of  the  text;  and  that  I 
should  like  to  take  my  own  way,  with  a  freer  range  of 
English  scenes  and  people,  and  was  afraid  I  should 
ultimately  do  so  in  any  case,  whatever  course  I  might 
prescribe  to  myself  at  starting.  My  views  being 
deferred  to,  I  thought  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  wrote  the 
first  number;  from  the  proof-sheets  of  which  Mr.  Sey- 


PREFACE. 


vii 


mour  made  his  drawing  of  the  club,  and  that  happy- 
portrait  of  its  founder,  by  which  he  is  always  recognized, 
and  which  may  be  said  to  have  made  him  a  reality.  I 
connected  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  club,  because  of  the 
original  suggestion,  and  I  put  in  Mr.  Winkle  expressly 
for  the  use  of  Mr.  Seymour.  We  started  with  a  number 
of  twenty-four  pages  instead  of  thirty -two,  and  four 
illustrations  in  lieu  of  a  couple.  Mr.  Seymour's  sudden 
and  lamented  death,  before  the  second  number  was  pub- 
lished, brought  about  a  quick  decision  upon  a  point  al- 
ready in  agitation;  the  number  became  one  of  thirty -two 
pages  with  two  illustrations,  and  remained  so  to  the  end. 
My  friends  told  me  it  was  a  low,  cheap  form  of  publica- 
tion,* by  which  I  should  ruin  all  my  rising  hopes;  and 
how  right  my  friends  turned  out  to  be,  everybody  now 
knows. 

''Boz,"  my  signature  in  the  Morning  Chronicle,  ap- 

{)ended  to  the  monthly  cover  of  this  book,  and  retained 
ong  afterwards,  was  the  nickname  of  a  pet  child,  a 
younger  brother,  whom  I  had  dubbed  Moses,  in  honour 
of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield;  which  being  facetiously  pro- 
nounced through  the  nose,  became  Boses,  and  being 
shortened,  became  Boz.  ''Boz"  was  a  very  familiar 
household  word  to  me,  long  before  I  was  an  author,  and 
so  I  came  to  adopt  it. 

It  has  been  observed  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  that  there  is  a 
decided  change  in  his  character,  as  these  pages  proceed, 
and  that  he  becomes  more  good  and  more  sensible.  I 
do  not  think  this  change  will  appear  forced  or  unnat- 
ural to  my  readers,  if  they  will  reflect  that  in  real  life 
the  peculiarities  and  oddities  of  a  man  who  has  anything 
whimsical  about  him  generally  impress  us  first,  and 
that  it  is  not  until  we  are  better  acquainted  with  him 
that  we  usually  begin  to  look  below  these  superficial 
traits,  and  to  know  the  better  part  of  him. 

Lest  there  should  be  any  well-intentioned  persons  who 
do  not  perceive  the  difference  (as  some  such  could  not, 
when  ''Old  Mortality"  was  newly  published)  between  re- 
ligion and  the  cant  of  religion,  piety  and  the  pretence  of 
piety,  a  humble  reverence  for  the  great  truths  of  Scrip- 
ture, and  an  audacious  and  offensive  obtrusion  of  its 

'*  This  book  wonld  have  cost,  at  the  then  established  price  of  novels, 
about  four  guineas  and  a  half. 


viii 


PREFACE. 


letter  and  not  its  spirit  in  the  commonest  dissensions 
and  meanest  affairs  of  life,  to  the  extraordinary  con- 
fusion of  ignorant  minds,  let  them  understand  that  it  is 
always  the  latter,  and  never  the  former,  which  is  satir- 
ized here.  Further,  that  the  latter  is  here  satirized  as 
being,  according  to  all  experience,  inconsistent  with  the 
former,  impossible  of  union  with  it,  and  one  of  the  most 
evil  and  mischievous  falsehoods  existent  in  society — 
whether  it  establishes  its  headquarters,  for  the  time 
being,  in  Exeter  Hall,  or  Ebenezer  Chapel,  or  both.  It 
may  appear  unnecessary  to  offer  a  word  of  observation 
on  so  plain  a  head.  But  it  is  never  out  of  season  to 
protest  against  that  coarse  familiarity  with  sacred 
things  which  is  busy  on  the  lip,  and  idle  in  the  heart;  or 
against  the  confounding  of  Christianity  with  any  class 
ot  persons  who,  in  the  words  of  Swift,  have  just 
enough  religion  to  make  them  hate,  and  not  enough  to 
make  them  love,  one  another. 

I  have  found  it  curious  and  interestmg,  looking  over 
the  sheets  of  this  reprint,  to  mark  what  important  social 
improvements  have  taken  place  about  us,  almost  imper- 
ceptibly, even  since  they  were  originally  written.  The 
licence  of  Counsel,  and  the  degree  to  which  Juries  are 
ingeniously  bewildered,  are  yet  susceptible  of  modera- 
tion; while  an  improvement  in  the  mode  of  conducting 
Parliamentary  Elections  (especially  for  counties)  is  still 
within  the  bounds  of  possibility.  But,  legal  reforms 
have  pared  the  claws  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg;  a 
spirit  of  self-respect,  mutual  forbearance,  education  and 
co-operation,  for  such  good  ends,  has  diffused  itself 
among  their  clerks ;  places  far  apart  are  brought  together, 
to  the  present  convenience  and  advantage  of  the  Public, 
and  to  the  certain  destruction,  in  time,  of  a  host  of  petty 
iealousies,  blindnesses,  and  prejudices,  by  which  the  Pub- 
lic alone  have  always  been  the  sufferers;  the  laws  relat- 
ing to  imprisonment  for  debt  are  altered;  and  the  Fleet 
Prison  is  pulled  down! 

With  such  a  retrospect  comprised  within  so  short  a 
period,  who  knows,  but  it  may  be  discovered,  within 
this  Century,  that  there  are  even  magistrates  in  town 
and  country,  who  should  be  taught  to  shake  hands  every 
day  with  Common-sense  and  Justice;  that  even  Poor 
Laws  may  have  mercy  on  the  weak,  the  aged,  and 
unfortunate;  that  Schools,  on  the  broad  principles  of 


PREFACE. 


Christianity,  are  the  best  adornment  for  the  length  and 
breadth  of  this  civilized  land;  that  Prison  doors  should 
be  barred  on  the  outside,  no  less  heavily  and  carefully 
than  they  are  barred  within;  that  the  universal  diffusion 
of  common  means  of  decency  and  health  is  as  much  the 
right  of  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  as  it  is  indispensable  to 
the  safety  of  the  rich  and  of  the  State;  that  a  few  petty 
boards  and  bodies — less  than  drops  in  the  great  ocean  of 
humanity,  which  roars  around  them — are  not  to  let  loose 
Fever  and  Consumption  on  God's  creatures  at  their  will, 
or  always  to  keep  their  little  fiddles  going  for  a  Dance 
of  Death: 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  1. 

Page. 

The  Pickwickians         .         .........  1 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  fivat  Day's  Joui*uey,  and  the  first  Eveuiug's  Adventures;  with  their  CouBequences.  7 
CHAPTER  III. 

A  new  AcquaiutaucG  The  Stroller's  Tale.  A  disagreeable  Interruption;  and  an  un- 
pleasant Kencontre         .......  .35 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  Field-day  and  Bivouac.   More  new  Friends;  and  an  Invitation  to  the  Country         .  47 
CHAPTER  V. 

A  short  one — show^ing,  amonj?  other  Mattel's,  how  Mr.  Pickwick  undertook  to  drive, 

and  Mr.  Winkle  to  ride;  and  how  they  both  did  it         .         .         .         .     .  GO 

CHAPTER  VI. 

An  old-fashioned  Card  Party.     The  Clergyman's  Verses.    The  Story  of  the  Convict's 

Return         ...........  70 

CHAPTER  VII. 

How  Mr.  Winkle,  instead  of  shooting  at  the  Pigeon  and  killing  the  Crow,  shot  at  tlio 
Crow  and  wounded  the  Pigeon;  how  the  Dingley  Dell  Crirkot  Club  played  All- 
Muggleton,  and  how  All-Muggleton  dined  at  the  DiiigU-y  Doll  Expense;  with 
other  interesting  and  instructive  Matters         .         .         .         .         .        .  86 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Btrongly  illu8tr8,tive  of  the  Position  tliat  the  Course  of  true  Love  is  not  a  Railway    .  101 


xii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IX.  '  Page. 

A  Discovery  and  a  Chase         .         .         •         •         •         •         •         •  • 

CHAPTER  X. 

Clearing  up  all  Doubts  (if  any  existed)  of  the  Disinterestedness  of  Mr.  Jingle's  Character.  124 
CHAPTER  XI. 

Involving  another  Journey,  and  an  antiquarian  Discovery.  Recording  Mr,  Pickwick's 
Detenu iuation  to  be  present  at  an  Election;  and  containing  a  Manuscript  of  the 
old  Clergyman's         ..........  139 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Descriptive  of  a  very  important  Proceeding  on  the  Part  of  Mr.  Pickwick;  no  less  an 

Kpoch  in  his  Life  than  in  this  History         .  .  ....  158 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

8ome  Account  of  Eatanswill;  of  the  state  of  Parties  therein;  and  of  the  Election  of  a 

Member  to  serve  in  Parliament  for  that  ancient,  loyal,  and  patriotic  Borough  .  164 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Comprising  a  brief  Description  of  the  Company  at  the  Peacock  assembled;  and  a  Tale 

told  by  a  Bagman  .........  .184 


CHAPTER  XV. 

In  which  is  given  a  faithful  Portraiture  of  two  distinguished  Persons;  and  an  accurate 
Description  of  a  public  Breakfast  iu  their  House  and  Grounds;  which  public 
Breakfast  leads  to  the  Recognition  of  an  old  Acquaintance,  and  the  Commence- 
ment of  another  Chapter         ....  ...  202 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Too  full  of  Adventure  to  be  briefly  described         .         .         .         .         .  .217 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Showing  that  an  Attack  of  Rheumatism,  in  some  cases,  acts  as  a  Quickener  to  inventive 

Genius         ......  ....  237 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Briefly  iUustrative  of  two  Points:  first,  the  Power  of  Hysterics,  and,  secondly,  the 

Force  of  Circumstances         .         .         .         .         ,         .         .         .    .  246 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
A  pleasant  Day,  with  an  unpleasant  Termination 


267 


CONTENTS. 


xiii 


CH4PTEE  XX.  Page. 

Showing  how  Dodson  and  Fogg  were  Men  of  Business,  and  their  Clerks  Men  of 
Pleasure;  and  how  an  affecting  Interview  took  place  between  Mr.  Weller  and  his 
long-lost  Parent;  showing  also  what  Choice  Spirits  assembled  at  the  Magpie  and 
Stump,  and  what  a  capital  Chapter  the  next  one  will  be         .         .         .      .  272 


CHAPTEK  XXI. 


In  which  the  old  Man  launches  forth  into  his  favourite  Theme,  and  relates  a  Story 

about  a  queer  Client         .         .  .  ....  289 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


Mr  Pickwick  journeys  to  Ipswich,  and  meets  with  a  romantic  Adventure  with  a  mid- 
dle-aged Lady  in  yellow  Curl- Papers         .         .         .         .         ...  308 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


In  which  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  begins  to  devote  his  Energies  to  the  return  Match  between 

Himself  and  Mr.  Trotter        .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  .  325 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


Wherein  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  grows  jealous,  and  the  middle-aged  Lady  apprehensive, 

which  brings  the  Pickwickians  within  the  Grasp  of  the  Law         .         .         .  334 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


Showing  among  a  variety  of  pleasant  Matters,  how  majestic  and  impartial  Mr. 
Nupkins  was;  and  how  Mr.  Weller  returned  Mr.  Job  Trotter's  Shuttlecock  as 
heavily  as  it  came.   With  another  Matter,  which  will  be  found  in  its  Place       .  350 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Which  contains  a  brief  Account  of  the  Progress  of  the  Action  of  Bardell  against  Pick- 
wick        ...  .  .......  370 

/ 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 


Samuel  Weller  makes  a  Pilgrimage  to  Dorking,  and  beholds  his  Mother-in-law    .      .  377 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


A  good-liumoured  Christmas  Chapter,  containing  an  Account  of  a  Wedding,  and 
some  other  Sports  besides:  which,  although,  in  their  way,  even  as  good  Customs 
as  Marriage  itself,  are  not  quite  so  religiously  kept  up  in  these  degenerate  Times  .  387 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS 


OF 

THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  PICKWICKIANS* 

The  first  ray  of  light  which  illumines  the  gloom,  and 
converts  into  a  dazzling  brilliancy  that  obscurity  in 
which  the  earlier  history  of  the  public  career  of  the  im- 
mortal Pickwick  would  appear  to  be  involved,  is  derived 
from  the  perusal  of  the  following  entry  in  the  transac- 
tions of  the  Pickwick  Club,  which  the  editor  of  these 
papers  feels  the  highest  pleasure  in  laying  before  his 
readers,  as  a  proof  of  the  careful  attention,  indefatigable 
assiduity,  and  nice  discrimination,  with  which  his  search 
among  the  multifarious  documents  confided  to  him  has 
been  conducted: 

'^May  12,  1827.  Joseph  Smiggers,  Esq.,  P.V.P.M.P. 
C.,*  presiding.  The  following  resolutions  unanimously 
agreed  to  : 

"  That  this  Association  has  heard  read,  with  feelings 
of  unmingled  satisfaction,  and  unqualified  approval,  the 
paper  communicated  by  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C.M. 
P.C.,t  entitled  '  Speculations  on  the  Source  of  the  Hamp- 
stead  Ponds,  with  some  Observations  on  the  Theory  of 
Tittlebats;'  and  that  this  Association  does  hereby  return 
its  warmest  thanks  to  the  said  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq., 
G.C.M.P.C.,  for  the  same. 

''That  while  this  Association  is  deeply  sensible  of 
the  advantages  which  must  accrue  to  the  cause  of 
science,  from  the  production  to  which  they  have  just 
adverted,  no  less  than  from  the  unwearied  researches  of 
Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C.M.P.C.,  in  Hornsey,  High- 

*  Perpetual  Vice-President— Member  Pickwick  Club, 
t  General  Ohairman — Member  Pickwick  Club,  , 


2  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

gate,  Brixton,  and  Camberwell ;  they  cannot  but  enter- 
tain a  lively  sense  of  the  inestimable  benefits  which 
must  inevitably  result  from  carrying  the  speculations  of 
that  learned  man  into  a  wider  field,  from  extending  his 
travels,  and  consequently  erflarging  his  sphere  of  ob- 
servation ;  to  the  advancement  of  knowledge,  and  the 
diffusion  of  learning. 

That  with  the  view  just  mentioned,  this  Association 
has  taken  into  its  serious  consideration  a  proposal,  ema- 
nating from  the  aforesaid  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C. 
M.P.C.,  and  three  other  Pickwickians  hereinafter 
named,  for  forming  a  new  branch  of  United  Pickwick- 
ians under  the  title  of  The  Corresponding  Society  of  the 
Pickwick  Club. 

''That  said  proposal  has  received  the  sanction  and 
approval  of  this  Association. 

''That  the  Corresponding  Society  of  the  Pickwick 
Club  is  therefore  hereby  constituted ;  and  that  Samuel 
Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C.M.P.C.,  Tracy  Tupman,  Esq.,  M.P. 
C,  Augustus  Snodgrass,  Esq.,  M.P.C.,  and  Nathaniel 
Winkle,  Esq.,  M.P.C.,  are  hereby  nominated  and  ap- 
pointed members  of  the  same;  and  that  they  be  requested 
to  forward,  from  time  to  time,  authenticated  accounts 
of  their  journeys  and  investigations ;  of  their  observa- 
tions of  character  and  manners  ;  and  of  the  whole  of 
their  adventures,  together  with  all  tales  and  papers,  to 
which  local  scenery  or  associations  may  give  rise,  to  the 
Pickwick  Club,  stationed  in  London. 

"That  this  Association  cordially  recognizes  the  prin- 
ciple of  every  member  of  the  Corresponding  Society 
defraying  his  own  travelling  expenses  ;  and  that  it  sees 
no  objection  whatever  to  the  members  of  the  said  society 
pursuing  their  inquiries  for  any  length  of  time  they 
please,  upon  the  same  terms. 

"That  the  members  of  the  aforesaid  Corresponding 
Society  be,  and  are  hereby  informed,  that  their  proposals 
to  pay  the  postage  of  their  letters,  and  the  carriage  of 
their  parcels,  has  been  deliberated  upon,  by  this  Asso- 
ciation. That  this  Association  considers  such  proposal 
worthy  of  the  great  minds  from  which  it  emanated; 
and  that  it  hereby  signifies  its  perfect  acquiescence 
therein." 

A  casual  observer,  adds  the  secretary,  to  whose  notes  • 
we  are  indebted  for  the  following  account — a  casual 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  3 

observer  might  possibly  have  remarked  nothing  extraor- 
dinary in  the  bald  head,  and  circular  spectacles,  which 
were  intently  turned  towards  his  (the  secretary's)  face, 
during  the  reading  of  the  above  resolutions.  To  those 
who  knew  that  the  gigantic  brain  of  Pickwick  was 
working  beneath  that  forehead,  and  that  the  beaming 
eyes  of  Pickwick  were  twinkling  behind  those  glasses, 
the  sight  was  indeed  an  interesting  one.  There  sat  the 
man  who  had  traced  to  their  source  the  mighty  Ponds  of 
Hampstead,  and  agitated  the  scientific  world  with  his 
Theory  of  Tittlebats,  as  calm  and  unmoved  as  the  deep 
waters  of  the  one  on  a  frosty  day,  or  as  a  solitary  speci- 
men of  the  other,  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  an  earthen 
jar.  And  how  much  more  interesting  did  the  spectacle 
become,  when,  starting  into  full  life  and  animation,  as 
a  simultaneous  call  for  Pickwick"  burst  from  his  fol- 
lowers, that  illustrious  man  slowly  mounted  into  the 
Windsor  chair,  on  which  he  had  been  previously  seated, 
and  addressed  the  club  himself  had  founded.  What  a 
study  for  an  artist  did  that  exciting  scene  present !  The 
eloquent  Pickwick,  with  one  hand  gracefully  concealed 
behind  his  coat  tails,  and  the  other  waving  in  air,  to 
assist  his  glowing  declamation  ;  his  elevated  position 
revealing  those  tights  and  gaiters,  which,  had  they 
clothed  an  ordinary  man,  might  have  passed  without 
observation,  but  which,  when  Pickwick  clothed  them — 
if  we  may  use  the  expression — inspired  involuntary  awe 
and  respect ;  surrounded  by  the  men  who  had  volun- 
teered to  share  the  perils  of  his  travels,  and  who  were 
destined  to  participate  in  the  glories  of  his  discoveries. 
On  his  right  hand  sat  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman ;  the  too  sus- 
ceptible Tupman,  who,  to  the  wisdom  and  experience  of 
maturer  years,  superadded  the  enthusiasm  and  ardour 
of  a  boy,  in  the  most  interesting  and  pardonable  of  hu- 
man weaknesses — love.  Time  and  feeding  had  expanded 
that  once  romantic  form;  the  black  silk  waistcoat  had 
become  more  and  more  developed;  inch  by  inch  had  the 
gold  watch  chain  beneath  it  disappeared  from  within 
the  range  of  Tupman's  vision ;  and  gradually  had  the 
capacious  chin  encroached  upon  the  borders  of  the  white 
cravat,  but  the  soul  of  Tupman  had  known  no  change 
— admiration  of  the  fair  sex  was  still  its  ruling  passion. 
On  the  left  of  his  great  leader  sat  the  poetic  Snodgrass, 
and  near  him  again  the  sporting  Wmkle;  the  former 


4  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

poetically  enveloped  in  a  mysterious  blue  cloak  with  a 
canine-skin  collar,  and  the  latter  communicating  addi- 
tional lustre  to  a  new  green  shooting-coat,  plaid  necker- 
chief, and  closely  fitted  drabs. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  oration  upon  this  occa^sion,  together 
with  the  debate  thereon,  is  entered  on  the  Transactions 
of  the  Club.  Both  bear  a  strong  affinity  to  the  discus- 
sions of  other  celebrated  bodies;  and,  as  it  is  always  in- 
teresting to  trace  a  resemblance  between  the  proceed- 
ings of  great  men,  we  transfer  the  entry  to  these  pages. 

''Mr.  Pickwick  observed  (says  the  Secretary)  that  fame 
was  dear  to  the  heart  of  every  man.  Poetic  fame  was 
dear  to  the  heart  of  his  friend  Snodgrass,  the  fame  of 
conquest  was  equally  dear  to  his  friend  Tupman;  and 
the  desire  of  earning  fame,  in  the  sports  of  the  field,  the 
air,  and  the  water,  was  uppermost  in  the  breast  of  his 
friend  Winkle.  He  (Mr.  Pickwick)  would  not  deny 
that  he  was  influenced  by  human  passions,  and  human 
feelings  (cheers) — possibly  by  human  weaknesses — (loud 
cries  of  'No');  but  this  he  would  say,  that  if  ever  the 
fire  of  self-importance  broke  out  in  his  bosom,  the  de- 
sire to  benefit  the  human  race  in  preference  effectually 
quenched  it.  The  praise  of  mankind  was  his  Swing; 
philanthropy  was  his  insurance  office.  (Vehement 
cheering.)  He  had  felt  some  pride— he  acknowledged 
it  freely;  and  let  his  enemies  make  the  most  of  it — he 
had  felt  some  pride  when  he  presented  his  Tittlebatian 
Theory  to  the  world;  it  might  be  celebrated  or  it  might 
not.  (A  cry  of  '  It  is,'  and  great  cheering.)  He  would 
take  the  assertion  of  that  honourable  Pickwickian  whose 
voice  he  had  just  heard — it  was  celebrated:  but  if  the 
fame  of  that  treatise  were  to  extend  to  the  farthest  con- 
fines of  the  known  world,  the  pride  with  which  he  should 
refiect  on  the  authorship  of  that  production  would  be 
as  nothing  compared  with  the  pride  with  which  he 
looked  around  him,  on  this,  the  proudest  moment  of  his 
existence.  (Cheers.)  He  was  a  humble  individual. 
C  No,  no.')  Still  he  could  not  but  feel  that  they  had  se- 
lected him  for  a  service  of  great  honour,  and  of  some 
danger.  Travelling  was  in  a  troubled  state,  and  the 
minds  of  coachmen  were  unsettled.  Let  them  look  abroad 
and  contemplate  the  scenes  which  were  enacting  around 
them.  Stage  coaches  were  upsetting  in  all  directions, 
horses  were  bolting,  boats  were  overturning,  and  boilers 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


5 


were  bursting.  (Cheers — a  voice  ^  No.')  No!  (Cheers.) 
Let  that  honourable  Pickwickian  who  cried  '  No '  so 
loudly,  come  forward  and  deny  it  if  he  could.  (Cheers.) 
Who  was  it  that  cried  'No'?  (Enthusiastic  cheering.) 
Was  it  some  vain  and  disappointed  man — he  would  not 
say  haberdasher — (loud  cneer^) — who,  jealous  of  the 
praise  which  had  been — perhaps  undeservedly — bestowed 
on  his  (Mr.  Pick^yick's)  researches,  and  smarting  un- 
der the  censure  which  had  been  heaped  upon  his  own 
feeble  attempts  at  rivalry,  now  took  this  vile  and  ca- 
lumnious mode  of  

''Mr.  Blotton  (of  Aldgate)  rose  to  order.  Did  the 
honourable  Pickwickian  allude  to  him?  (Cries  of  '  Order,' 
'  Chair,'  '  Yes,'  '  No,'  '  Go  on,'  '  Leave  off,'  &c.) 

"Mr.  Pickwick  would  not  put  up  to  be  put  down  by 
clamour.  He  had  alluded  to  the  honourable  gentleman. 
(Great  excitement.) 

"  Mr.  Blotton  would  only  say  then,  that  he  repelled 
the  hon.  gent's  false  and  scurrilous  accusation,  with 
profound  contempt.  (Great  cheering.)  The  hon.  gent 
was  a  humbug.  (Immense  confusion,  and  loud  cries  of 
'Chair'  and  'Order.') 

"Mr.  A.  Snodgrass  rose  to  order.  He  threw  himself 
upon  the  chair.  (Hear.)  He  wished  to  know  whether 
this  disgraceful  contest  between  two  members  of  that 
club  should  be  allowed  to  continue?    (Hear,  hear.) 

"  The  Chairman  was  quite  sure  the  hon.  Pickwickian 
would  withdraw  the  expression  he  had  just  made  use  of. 

"  Mr.  Blotton,  with  all  possible  respect  for  the  .chair, 
was  quite  sure  he  would  not. 

"  The  Chairman  felt  it  his  imperative  duty  to  demand 
of  the  honourable  gentleman  v/hether  he  had  used  the 
expression  which  had  just  escaped  him,  in  a  common 
sense. 

"  Mr.  Blotton  had  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  he  had 
not — he  had  used  the  word  in  its  Pickwickian  sense. 
(Hear,  hear.)  He  was  bound  to  acknowledge,  that,  per- 
sonally, he  entertained  the  highest  regard  and  esteem 
for  the  honourable  gentleman;  he  had  merely  considered 
him  a  humbug  in  a  Pickwickian  point  of  view.  (Hear, 
hear.) 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  much  gratified  by  the  fair,  candid, 
and  full  explanation  of  his  honourable  friend.  He 
begged  it  to  be  at  once  understood,  that  his  own  observa- 


6 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


tions  had  been  merely  intended  to  bear  a  Pickwickian 
construction.    (Cheers. )" 

Here  the  entry  terminates,  as  we  have  no  doubt  the 
debate  did  also,  after  arriving  at  such  a  highly  satisfac- 
tory and  intelligible  point.  We  have  no  official  state- 
ment of  the  facts  which*the  reader  will  find  recorded  in 
the  next  chapter,  but  they  have  been  carefully  collated 
from  letters  and  other  MS.  authorities,  so  unquestion- 
ably genuine,  as  to  justify  their  narration  in  a  con- 
nected form. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


7 


CHAPTER  IL 

THE  FIRST  day's  JOURNEY,  AND  THE  FIRST  EVENING'S 
ADVENTURES  ;  WITH  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES. 

That  punctual  servant  of  all  work,  the  sun,  had  just 
risen,  and  begun  to  strike  a  light  on  the  morning  of  the 
thirteenth  of  May,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
twenty-seven,  when  Mr.  Samuel  Pickwick  burst  like  an- 
other sun  from  his  slumbers;  threw  open  his  chamber 
window,  and  looked  out  upon  the  world  beneath.  Gos- 
well-street  was  at  his  feet,  Goswell-street  was  on  his 
right  hand — as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  Goswell-street 
extended  on  his  left;  and  the  opposite  side  of  Goswell- 
street  was  over  the  way.  Such,"  thought  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, ^^are  the  narrow  views  of  those  philosophers  who., 
content  with  examining  the  things  that  lie  before  them, 
look  not  to  the  truths  which  are  hidden  beyond.  As  well 
might  I  be  content  to  gaze  on  Goswell-street  forever, 
without  one  effort  to  penetrate  to  the  hidden  countries 
which  on  every  side  surround  it."  And  having  given 
vent  to  this  beautiful  reflection,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded 
to  put  himself  into  his  clothes;  and  his  clothes  into  his 
portmanteau.  Great  men  are  seldom  over-scrupulous  in 
the  arrangement  of  their  attire;  the  operation  of  shav- 
ing, dressing,  and  coffee-imbibing  was  soon  performed: 
and,  in  another  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  portman- 
teau in  his  hand,  his  telescope  in  his  great-coat  pocket, 
and  his  note-book  in  his  waistcoat,  ready  for  the  recep- 
tion of  any  discoveries  worthy  of  being  noted  down,  had 
arrived  at  the  coach  stand  in  St.  Martin's-le-Grand. 

^^Cab!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Here  you  are,  sir,"  shouted  a  strange  specimen  of  the 
human  race,  in  a  sackcloth  coat,  and  apron  of  the  same, 
who,  with  a  brass  label  and  number  round  his  neck, 
looked  as  if  he  were  catalogued  in  some  collection  of 
rarities.  This  was  the  waterman.  ''Here  you  are,  sir. 
Now,  then,  fust  cab!"  And  the  first  cab  having  been 
fetched  from  the  public-house  where  he  had  been  smok- 
ing his  first  pipe,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  portmanteau 
were  thrown  into  the  vehicle. 


s 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Golden  Cross,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Only  a  bob's  vorth,  Tommy/'  cried  the  driver, 
sulkily,  for  the  information  of  his  friend  the  waterman, 
as  the  cab  drove  off. 

''How  old  is  that  horse,  my  friend?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  rubbing  his  nose  with  the  shilling  he  had  re- 
served for  the  fare. 

"Forty-two,  "  replied  the  driver,  eyeing  him  askant. 

"What!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  note-book.  The  driver  reiterated  his  form.er 
statement.  Mr.  Pickwick  looked  very  hard  at  the  man's 
face,  but  his  features  were  immovable,  so  he  noted 
down  the  fact  forthwith. 

"And  how  long  do  you  keep  him  out  at  a  time  ?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick,  searching  for  further  information. 

"  Two  or  three  veeks,"  replied  the  man. 

"Weeks!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  astonishment — and 
out  came  the  note-book  again, 

"He  lives  at  Pentonwil  when  he's  at  home,"  observed 
the  driver,  coolly,  "but  we  seldom  takes  him  home,  on 
account  of  his  veakness." 

"On  account  of  his  weakness!"  reiterated  the  per- 
plexed Mr.  Pickwick. 

"He  always  falls  down,  when  he's  took  out  o'  the 
cab,"  continued  the  driver,  "but  when  he's  in  it  v/e 
bears  him  up  v/erry  tight,  and  takes  him  in  werry  short, 
so  as  he  can't  werry  well  fall  down,  and  we've  got  a 
pair  o'  precious  large  wheels  on ;  so  ven  he  does  move 
they  run  after  him,  and  he  must  go  on — he  can't  help  it." 

Mr.  Pickwick  entered  every  word  of  this  statement  in 
his  note-book,  with  the  view  of  communicating  it  to  the 
club  as  a  singular  instance  of  the  tenacity  of  life  in 
horses,  under  trying  circumstances.  The  entry  was 
scarcely  com.pleted  when  they  reached  the  Golden  Cross. 
Down  jumped  the  driver,  and  out  got  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Mr.  Tupnian,  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had 
been  anxiously  waiting  the  arrival  of  their  illustrious 
leader,  crowded  to  v\relcome  him. 

"  Here's  your  fare,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  holding  out 
the  shilling  to  the  driver. 

What  was  the  learned  man's  astonishment,  when  that 
unaccountable  person  flung  the  money  on  the  pavement, 
and  requested  in  figurative  terms  to  be  allowed  the 
pleasure  of  fighting  him  (Mr.  Pickwick)  for  the  amount. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


9 


You  are  mad,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 
''Or  drunk,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 
''Or  both,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Come  on,"  said  the  cab  driver,  sparring  away  like 
clock-work.    "Come  on — all, four  on  you." 

"Here's  a  lark  ! "  shouted  half-a-dozen  hackney  coach- 
men. "Go  to  vork,  Sam" — and  they  crowded  with 
great  glee  round  the  party. 

"What's  the  row,  Sam  ?"  inquired  one  gentleman  in 
black  calicb  sleeves. 

"Row  !"  replied  the  cabman,  "what  did  he  want  my 
number  for  ?" 

"I  didn't  want  your  number,"  said  the  astonished 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"What  did  you  take  it  for,  then  ?"♦  inquired  the 
cabman. 

"  I  didn't  take  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  indignantly. 

"Would  anybody  believe,"  continued  the  cab-driver, 
appealing  to  the  crowd — "would  anybody  believe  as  an 
informer  'ud  go  about  in  a  man's  cab,  not  only  takin' 
dov/n  his  number,  but  every  word  he  says  into  the  bar- 
gain" (a  light  flashed  upon  Mr.  Pickwick — it  was  the 
note-book). 

' '  Did  he,  though  ? "  inquired  another  cabman. 

' '  Yes,  did  he, "  replied  the  first,  ' '  and  then  arter  aggera- 
watin'  me  to  assault  him,  gets  three  witnesses  here  to 
prove  it.  But  I'll  give  it  him,  if  I've  six  months  for  it. 
Come  on,"  and  the  cabman  dashed  his  hat  upon  the 
ground,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  his  own  private 
property,  and  knocked  Mr.  Pickwick's  spectacles  off,  and 
followed  up  the  attack  with  a  blow  on  Mr.  Pickwick's 
nose,  and  another  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  chest,  and  a  third  in 
Mr.  Snodgrass's  eye,  and  a  fourth,  by  way  of  variety,  in 
Mr.  Tupman'  waistcoat,  and  then  danced  into  the  road, 
and  then  back  again  to  the  pavement,  and  finally  dashed 
the  whole  temporary  supply  of  breath  out  of  Mr. 
Winkle's  body;  and  all  in  half-a-dozen  seconds. 

"Where's  an  officer  ?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"Put 'em  under  the  pump,"  suggested  a  hot-pie  man. 

"You  shall  smart  for  this,"  gasped  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Informers,"  shouted  the  crowd. 

"Come  on,"  cried  the  cabman,  who  had  been  sparring 
without  cessation  the  whole  time. 

The  mob  had  hitherto  ])Oon  par.sivo  spectator*  of  the 


hO  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


scene,  but  as  the  intelligence  of  the  Pickwickians  being 
informers  was  spread  among  them,  they  be^an  to  can- 
vass with  considerable  vivacity  the  propriety  of  en- 
forcing the  heated  pastry-vender's  proposition :  and 
there  is  no  saying  what  acts  of  personal  aggression  they 
might  have  committed,  had  not  the  affray  been  unex- 
pectedly terminated  by  the  interposition  of  a  new  comer. 

*  '  What's  the  fun?"  said  a  rather  tall,  thin  young  man, 
in  a  green  coat,  emerging  suddenly  from  the  coach-yard. 

•'Informers!"  shouted  the  crowd  again. 
We  are  not,"  roared  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a  tone  which, 
to  any  dispassionate  listener,  carried  conviction  with  it. 

''Ain't  you,  though— ain't  you?"  said  the  young  man, 
appealing  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  making  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  by ^  the  infallible  process  of  elbowing  the 
countenances  of  its  component  members. 

That  learned  man  in  a  few  hurried  Avords  explained 
the  real  state  of  the  case. 

"Come along,  then,"  said  he  of  the  green  coat,  lugging 
Mr.  Pickwick  after  him  by  main  force,  and  talking  the 
whole  way.  "Here,  IsTo.  924,  take  your  fare,  and  take 
yourself  off — respectable  gentleman — know  him  well- 
none  of  your  nonsense — this  way,  sir — where's  your 
friends? — all  a  mistake,  I  see — never  mind — accidents 
will  happen — best  regulated  families — never  say  die- 
down  upon  your  luck — pull  him  up— put  that  in  his  pip^ 
— like  the  flavour— damned  rascals."  And  with  a 
lengthened  string  of  similar  broken  sentences,  delivered 
with  extraordinary  volubility,  the  stranger  led  the  way 
to  the  travellers'  waiting-room,  whither  he  was  closely 
followed  by  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  disciples. 

"Here,  waiter,"  shouted  the  stranger,  ringing  the  bell 
with  tremendous  violence,  "glasses  round— brandy  and 
water,  hot  and  strong,  and  sweet,  and  plenty — eye 
damaged,  sir?  Waiter;  raw  beefsteak  for  the  gentle- 
man's eye— nothing  like  raw  beefsteak  for  a  bruise, 
sir;  cold  lamp-post  very  good,  but  lamp-post  incon- 
venient— damned  odd  standing  in  the  open  street  half- 
an-hour,  with  your  eye  against  a  lamp-post — eh — very 
good— ha!  ha!"  And  the  stranger,  without  stopping  to 
take  breath,  swallowed  at  a  draught  full  half-a-pint  of 
the  reeking  brandy  and  water,  and  flung  himself  into  a 
chair  with  as  much  ease  as  if  nothing  uncommon  had 
occurred. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


11 


While  his  three  companions  were  busily  engaged  in 
proffering  their  thanks  to  their  new  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  leisure  to  examine  his  costume  and  ap- 
pearance. 

He  was  about  the  middle  height,  but  the  thinness  of 
his  body,  and  the  length  of  his  legs,  gave  him  the 
appearance  of  being  much  taller.  The  green  coat  had 
been  a  smart  dress  garment  in  the  days  of  swallow-tails, 
but  had  evidently  in  those  times  adorned  a  much  shorter 
man  than  the  stranger,  for  the  soiled  and  faded  sleeves 
scarcely  reached  to  his  wrists.  It  was  buttoned  closely 
up  to  his  chin,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  splitting  the 
back;  and  an  old  stock,  without  a  vestige  of  shirt  collar, 
ornamented  his  neck.  His  scanty  black  trousers  dis- 
played here  and  there  those  shiny  patches  which  bespeak 
long  service,  and  were  strapped  very  tightly  over  a  pair 
of  patched  and  mended  shoes,  as  if  to  conceal  the  dirty 
white  stockings,  which  were  nevertheless  distinctly  visi- 
ble. His  long  black  hair  escaped  in  negligent  wave§  from 
beneath  each  side  of  hisoldpinched-up  hat;  and  glimpses 
of  his  bare  wrists  might  be  observed,  between  the  tops  of 
his  gloves  and  the  cuffs  of  his  coat  sleeves.  His  face 
was  thin  and  haggard;  but  an  indescribable  air  of  jaunty 
impudence  and  perfect  self-possession  pervaded  the 
whole  man. 

Such  was  th*e  individual  on  whom  Mr.  Pickwick  gazed 
through  his  spectacles  (which  he  had  fortunately  recov- 
ered), and  to  whom  he  proceeded,  when  his  friends  had 
exhausted  themselves,  to  return,  in  chosen  terms,  his 
warmest  thanks  for  his  recent  assistance. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  stranger,  cutting  the  address 
very  short — ^'said  enough — no  more;  smart  chap  that 
cabman — handles  his  fives  well;  but  if  I'd  been  your 
friend  in  the  green  jemmy — damn  me — punch  his  head — 
'cod  I  would — pig's  whisper — pieman  too — no  gammon." 

This  coherent  speech  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  the  Rochester  coachman,  to  announce  that  ^'The 
Commodore  "  was  on  the  point  of  starting. 

*^ Commodore!"  said  the  stranger,  starting  up,  '^my 
coach — place  booked — one  outside — leave  you  to  pay 
for  the  .brandy  and  water — want  change  for  a  five — 
bad  silver — Brummagem  buttons — won't  do — no  go — 
eh?"  and  he  shook  his  head  most  knowingly. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three 


12  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

companions  had  resolved  to  make  Rochester  their  first 
haltmg-place  too ;  and  having  intimated  to  their  new- 
found acquaintance  that  they  were  journeying  to  the 
same  city,  they  agreed  to  occupy  the  seat  at  the  back  of 
the  coach,  where  they  could  all  sit  together. 

Up  with  you,"  said  the  stranger,  assisting  Mr.  Pick- 
wick on  to  the  roof  with  so  much  precipitation,  as  to 
impair  the  gravity  of  that  gentleman's  deportment  very 
materially. 

Any  luggage,  sir  ?"  inquired  the  coachman. 

Who — 1  ?  Brown  paper  parcel  here,  that's  all,  other 
luggage  gone  by  water — packing  cases,  nailed  up — big 
as  houses — heavy,  heavy,  damned  heavy,"  replied  the 
stranger,  as  he  forced  into  his  pocket  as  much  as  he 
could  of  the  brown  paper  parcel,  which  presented  most 
suspicious  indications  of  containing  one  shirt  and  a 
handkerchief. 

''Heads,  heads,  take  care  of  your  heads,"  cried  the 
loquacious  stranger,  as  they  came  out  under  the  low 
archway,  which  in  those  days  formed  the  entrance  to 
the  coach-yard.  ''Terrible  place — dangerous  work — 
other  day — five  children — mother — tall  lady,  eating  sand- 
wiches— forgot  the  arch — crash — knock — children  look 
round — mother's  head  off — sandwich  in  her  hand — no 
mouth  to  put  it  in — head  of  a  family  off — shocking,  shock- 
ing. Looking  at  Whitehall,  sir? — fine  place — little  win- 
dow— somebody  else's  head  off  there,  eh,  sir  ? — he  didn't 
keep  a  sharp  look  out  enough  either — eh,  sir,  eh?" 

"I  was  ruminating,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "on  the 
strange  mutability  of  human  affairs." 

"  Ah  !  I  see — in  at  the  palace  door  one  day,  out  at  the 
window  the  next.    Philosopher,  sir  ?  " 

"An  observer  of  human  nature,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Ah,  so  am  I.  Most  people  are  when  theyVe  little  to 
do,  and  less  to  get.    Poet,  sir  ?  " 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  strong  poetic  turn," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"So  have  I,"  said  the  stranger.  "Epic  poem — ten 
thousand  lines — revolution  of  July — composed  it  on  the 
spot— Mars  by  day,  Apollo  by  night,  bang  the  field- 
piece,  twang  the  lyre." 

"You  were  present  at  that  glorious  scene,  sir  ?"  said 
Mr,  Snodgrass, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


18 


^'Present!  think  I  was;*  fired  a  musket — fired  with 
an  idea — rushed  into  wine  shop — wrote  it  down — back 
again — whiz,  bang — another  idea — wine  shop  again — 
pen  and  ink  —  back  again  —  cut  and  slash  —  noble 
time,  sir.  Sportsman,  sir  ?  "  abruptly  turning  to  Mr. 
Winkle. 

''A  little,  sir,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

^'Fine  pursuit,  sir — fine  pursuit.  Dogs,  sir 
Not  just  now,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 
Ah  !  you  should  keep  dogs — fine  animals — sagacious 
creatures — dog  of  my  own  once — pointer — surprising 
instinct — out  shooting  one  day — entering  inclosure — 
whistled — dog  stopped— whistled  again — Ponto — no  go  ; 
stock  still — called  nim—Ponto,  Ponto — wouldn't  move — 
dog  transfixed — staring  at  a  board — looked  up,  saw  an 
inscription — '  Gamekeeper  has  orders  to  shoot  all  dogs 
found  in  this  inclosure' — wouldn't  pass  it — wonderful 
dog — valuable  dog  that — very." 

''Singular  circumstance  that,'Vsaid  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Will  you  allow  me  to  make  a  note  of  it  ?  " 

''Certainly,  sir,  certainly — hundred  more  anecdotes 
of  the  same  animal.  Fine  girl,  sir  "  (to  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man,  who  had  been  bestowing  sundry  anti-Pickwickian 
glances  on  a  young  lady  by  the  roadside). 

"Very  I  "  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  English  girls  not  so  fine  as  Spanish — noble  creatures 
— jet  hair — black  eyes — lovely  forms — sweet  creatures — 
beautiful." 

"You  have  been  in  Spain,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman. 

"  Lived  there — ages." 

"  Many  conquests,  sir  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Conquests!  Thousands.  Don  Bolaro  Fizzgig  — 
Grandee — only  daughter — Donna  Christina — splendid 
creature — loved  me  to  distraction — jealous  father — high- 
souled  daughter — handsome  Englishman — Donna  Chris- 
tina in  despair — prussic  acid — stomach  pump  in  my  port- 
manteau— operation  performed — old  Bolaro  in  ecstacies 
— consent  to  our  union — join  hands  and  floods  of  tears — 
romantic  story — very." 

"  Is  the  lady  in  England  now,  sir  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Tup- 

*  A  remarkable  instance  of  the  prophetic  force  of  Mr,  Jingle's  imagina- 
Jioft }       (dialogue  occurred    tU^  year  isil^  ^J^^pl^^  iievolution  in  1830. 


14  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

man,  on  whom  the  description  of  her  charms  had  pro- 
duced a  powerful  impression. 

"  Dead,  sir— dead,"  said  the  stranger,  applying  to  his 
right  eye  the  brief  remnant  of  a  very  old  cambric  hand- 
kerchief. "  Never  recovered  the  stomach  pump — under- 
mined constitution— fell  a  victim." 

''And  her  father?"  inquired  the  poetic  Snodgrass. 
Remorse  and  misery,"  replied  the  stranger.  Sud- 
den disappearance — talk  of  the  whole  city — search  made 
everywhere — without  success — public  fountain  in  the 
great  square  suddenly  ceased  playing — weeks  elapsed — 
still  a  stoppage — workmen  employed  to  clean  it — water 
drawn  off — father-in-law  discovered  sticking  head  first 
in  the  main  pipe,  with  a  full  confession  in  his  right  boot 
—took  him  out,  and  the  fountain  played  away  again,  as 
well  as  ever." 

''Will  you  allow  me  to  note  that  little  romance  down, 
sir?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  greatly  affected. 

"Certainly,  sir,  certainly — fifty  more  if  you  like  to 
hear  'em — strange  life  mine — rather  curious  history — 
not  extraordinary,  but  singular." 

In  this  strain,  with  an  occasional  glass  of  ale,  by  way 
of  parenthesis,  when  the  coach  changed  horses,  did  the 
stranger  proceed,  until  they  reached  Rochester  bridge, 
•  by  which  time  the  note-books,  both  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  were  completely  filled  with  selections 
from  his  adventures. 

"Magnificent  ruin!"  said  Mr.  Augustus  Snodgrass, 
with  all  the  poetic  fervour  that  distinguished  him,  when 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  fine  old  castle. 

"What  a  study  for  an  antiquarian,"  were  the  very 
words  which  fell  from  Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth,  as  he  ap- 
plied his  telescope  to  his  eye. 

"Ah!  fine  place,"  said  the  stranger,  "glorious  pile — 
frowning  walls — tottering  arches — dark  nooks — crum- 
bling staircases — old  cathedral,  too— earthy  smell — pil- 
grims' feet  worn  away  the  old  steps — little  Saxon  doors 
— confessionals  like  money-takers'  boxes  at  theatres — 
queer  customers  those  monks— Popes,  and  Lord  Treas- 
urers, and  all  sorts  of  old  fellows,  with  great  red 
faces,  and  broken  noses,  turning  up  every  day — 
buff  jerkins,too — matchlocks — sarcophagus — fine  place 
— old  legends,  too — strange  stories:  capital;"  and  the 
stranger  continued  to  soliloquize  until  they  reached 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  15 

the  Bull  Inn,  in  the  High-street,  where  the  coach 
stopped. 

'^Do  you  remain  here,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Winkle. 

''Here— not  I — but  you'd  better — good  house — nice 
beds — Wright's  next  house,  dear — very  dear — half-a- 
crown  in  the  bill,  if  you  look  at  the  waiter — charge  you 
more  if  you  dine  at  a  friend's  than  they  would  if  you 
dined  in  the  coffee-room — rum  fellows — very." 

Mr.  Winkle  turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  murmured  a 
few  words;  a  whisper  passed  from  Mr.  Pickwick  to  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  from  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  Mr.  Tupman,  and 
nods  of  assent  were  exchanged.  Mr.  Pickwick  addressed 
the  stranger. 

You  rendered  us  a  very  important  service  this  morn- 
ing, sir,"  said  he;  ''will  you  allow  us  to  offer  a  slight 
mark  of  our  gratitude  by  begging  the  favour  of  your 
company  at  dinner?" 

"Great  pleasure — not  presume  to  dictate,  but  broiled 
fowl  and  mushrooms — capital  thing!   What  time?" 

"Let  me  see,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  referring  to 
his  watch.  "It  is  now  nearly  three.  Shall  we  say 
five?" 

"Suit  me  excellently,"  said  the  stranger,  "five  pre- 
cisely— till  then — care  of  yourselves;"  and  lifting  the 

f)inched-up  hat  a  few  inches  from  his  head,  and  care- 
essly  replacing  it  very  much  on  one  side,  the  stranger, 
with  half  the  brown  paper  parcel  sticking  out  of  his 
pocket,  walked  briskly  up  the  yard,  and  turned  into  the 
High-street. 

"  Evidently  a  traveller  in  many  countries,  and  a  close 
observer  of  men  and  things,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  his  poem,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  seen  that  dog,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

Mr.  Tupman  said  nothing;  but  he  thought  of  Donna 
Christina,  the  stomach  pump,  and  the  fountain;  and  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

A  private  sitting-room  having  been  engaged,  bed- 
rooms inspected,  and  dinner  ordered,  the  party  walked 
out  to  view  the  city,  and  adjoining  neighborhood. 

We  do  not  find,  from  a  careful  perusal  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's notes  on  the  four  towns,  Stroud,  Rochester,  Chat- 
ham, and  Brompton,  that  his  impressions  of  their  ap- 
pearance differ,  in  any  matonal  point,  from  those  of 


16  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

other  travellers  who  have  gone  over  the  same  ground. 
His  general  description  is  easily  abridged. 

'*The  principal  productions  of  these  towns,"  says  Mr. 
Pickwick,  appear  to  be  soldiers,  sailors,  Jews,  chalk, 
shrimps,  officers,  and  dockyard  men.  The  commodities 
chiefly  exposed  for  sale  in  the  public  streets,  are  marine 
stores,  hard-bake,  apples,  flat-fish,  and  oysters.  The 
streets  present  a  lively  and  animated  appearance,  occa- 
sioned chiefly  by  the  conviviality  of  the  military.  It  is 
truly  delightful  to  a  philanthropic  mind  to  see  these  gal- 
lant men,  staggering  along  under  the  influence  of  an  over- 
flow, both  of  animal  and  ardent  spirits;  more  especially 
when  we  remember  that  the  following  them  about,  and 
jesting  with  them,  affords  a  cheap  and  innocent  amuse- 
ment for  the  boy  population.  Nothing  (adds  Mr.  Pick- 
wick) can  exceed  their  good  humour.  It  was  but  the 
day  before  my  arrival  that  one  of  them  had  been -most 
grossly  insulted  in  the  house  of  a  publican.  The  bar- 
maid had  positively  refused  to  draw  him  any  more  liquor; 
in  return  for  which,  he  had  (merely  in  playfulness) 
drawn  his  bayonet,  and  wounded  the  girl  m  the  shoul- 
der. And  yet  this  fine  fellow  was  the  very  first  to  go 
down  to  the  house  next  morning,  and  express  his  readi- 
ness to  overlook  the  matter,  and  forget  what  had  oc- 
curred! 

The  consumption  of  tobacco  in  these  towns  (con- 
tinues Mr.  Pickwick)  must  be  very  great:  and  the  smell 
which  pervades  the  streets  must  be  exceedingly  de- 
licious to  those  who  are  extremely  fond  of  smoking.  A 
superficial  traveller  might  object  to  the  dirt  which  is 
their  leading  characteristic;  but  to  those  who  view  it  as 
an  indication  of  traffic,  and  commercial  prosperity,  it  is 
truly  gratifying." 

Punctual  to  five  o'clock  came  the  stranger,  and  shortly 
afterwards  the  dinner.  He  had  divested  himself  of  his 
brown  paper  parcel,  but  had  made  no  alteration  in  his 
attire;  and  was,  if  possible,  more  loquacious  than  ever. 

What's  that?"  ne  inquired,  as  the  waiter  removed 
one  of  the  covers. 

Soles,  sir." 

Soles — ah! — capital  fish — all  come  from  London — 
stage-coach  proprietors  get  up  political  dinners— carriage 
of  soles— dozens  of  baskets— cunning  fellows.  Glass  of 
wine,  sir?" 


Pickwick  Papers. 


THE  SAGACIOUS  DOG. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  17 

''With  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick — and  the  stran- 
ger took  wine;  first  with  him,  and  then  with  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  and  then  with  Mr.  Tupman,  and  then  with  Mr. 
Winkle,  and  then  with  the  whole  party  together,  almost 
as  rapidly  as  he  talked. 

"  Devil  of  a  mess  on  the  staircase,  waiter,"  said  the 
stranger.  "  Forms  going  up — carpenters  coming  down 
— lamps,  glasses,  harps.    What's  going  forward?" 

"  Ball,  sir,"  said  the  waiter 

''Assembly— eh?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  Assembly,  sir.  Ball  for  the  benefit  of  a 
charity,  sir." 

"Many  fine  women  in  this  town,  do  you  know,  sir?" 
inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  with  great  interest. 

"Splendid — capital.  Kent,  sir — Everybody  knows 
Kent — apples,  cherries,  hops,  and  women.  Glass  of 
wine,  sir?" 

"With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman.  The 
stranger  filled  and  emptied. 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Tupman, 
resuming  the  subject  of  the  ball;  "  very  much." 

"Tickets  at  the  bar,  sir,"  interposed  the  waiter,  "half 
a  guinea  each,  sir." 

Mr.  Tupman  again  expressed  an  earnest  wish  to  be 
present  at  the  festivity;  but  meeting  with  no  response  in 
the  darkened  eye  of  Mr.  Snodgrass,  or  the  abstracted 
gaze  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  applied  himself  with  great  in- 
terest to  the  port  wine  and  dessert  which  had  just  been 
placed  on  the  table.  The  waiter  withdrew,  and  the  party 
were  left  to  enjoy  the  cosy  couple  of  hours  succeeding 
dinner. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "bottle 
stands — pass  it  round — way  of  the  sun — through  the  but- 
ton-hole— no  heeltaps,"  and  he  emptied  his  glass,  which 
he  had  filled  about  two  minutes  before;  and  poured  out 
another,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  used  to  it. 

The  wine  was  passed,  and  a  fresh  supply  ordered.  The 
visitor  talked,  the  Pickwickians  listened.  Mr.  Tupman 
felt  every  moment  more  disposed  for  the  ball.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's countenance  glowed  with  an  expression  of  uni- 
versal philanthropy;  and  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass fell  fast  asleep. 

"  They're  beginnmg  up  stairs,"  said  the  stranger — 
"hear  the  company — fiddles  tuning" — now  the  liarp— 


18  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

there  they  go."  The  various  sounds  which  found  their 
way  down  stairs,  announced  the  commencement  of  the 
first  quadrille. 

*'How  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  again. 

''So  should  I,"  said  the  stranger— confounded  lug- 
gage—heavy  smacks— nothing  to  go  in— odd,  ain't  it?" 

Now  general  benevolence  was  one  of  the  leading  fea- 
tures of  the  Pickwickian  theory,  and  no  one  was  more 
remarkable  for  the  zealous  manner  in  which  he  observed 
so  noble  a  principle,  than  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman.  The 
number  of  instances,  recorded  on  the  Transactions  of  the 
Society,  in  which  that  excellent  man  referred  objects  of 
charity  to  the  houses  of  other  members  for  left-off  gar- 
ments, or  pecuniary  relief,  is  almost  incredible. 

''I  should  be  very  happy  to  lend  you  a  change  of  ap- 
parel for  the  purpose,"  said  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  ''but 
you  are  rather  slim,  and  I  am — " 

"  Rather  fat — grown  up  Bacchus — cut  the  leaves — dis- 
mounted from  the  tub,  and  adopted  kersey,  eh? — not 
double  distilled,  but  double  milled — ha!  ha! — pass  the 
wine." 

Whether  Mr.  Tupman  was  somewhat  indignant  at  the 
peremptorj^  tone  in  which  he  was  desired  to  pass  the 
wine  which  the  stranger  passed  so  quickly  away;  or 
whether  he  felt  very  properly  scandalized  at  an  influ- 
ential member  of  the  Pickwick  Club  being  ignominiously 
compared  to  a  dismounted  Bacchus,  is  a  fact  not  yet 
completely  ascertained.  He  passed  the  wine,  coughed 
twice,  and  looked  at  the  stranger  for  several  seconds 
with  a  stern  intensity;  as  that  individual,  however,  ap- 
peared perfectly  collected,  and  quite  calm  under  his 
searching  glance,  he  gradually  relaxed,  and  reverted  to 
the  subject  of  the  ball. 

"I  was  about  to  observe,  sir,"  he  said,  "that  though 
my  apparel  would  be  too  large,  a  suit  of  my  friend  Mr. 
Winkle's  would,  perhaps,  fit  you  better." 

The  stranger  took  Mr.  Winkle's  measure  with  his  eye; 
and  that  feature  glistened  with  satisfaction  as  he  said — 
"Just  the  thing!" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round  him.  The  wine  which  had 
exerted  its  somniferous  influence  over  Mr.  Snodgrass 
and  Mr.  Winkle,  had  stolen  upon  the  senses  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. That  gentleman  had  gradually  passed  through  the 
various  stages  which  precede  the  lethargy  produced  by 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB, 


19 


dinner,  and  its  consequences.  He  had  undergone  the 
ordinary  transitions  from  the  height  of  conviviality,  to 
the  depth  of  misery,  and  from  the  depth  of  misery,  to 
the  height  of  conviviality.  Like  a  gas  lamp  in  the 
street,  with  the  wind  in  the  pipe,  he  had  exhibited  for  a 
moment  an  unnatural  brilliancy:  then  sunk  so  low  as 
to  be  scarcely  discernible:  after  a  short  interval,  he  had 
burst  out  again,  to  enlighten  for  a  moment,  then 
flickered  with  an  uncertain,  staggering  sort  of  light, 
and  then  gone  out  altogether.  His  head  was  sunk  upon 
his  bosom;  and  perpetual  snoring,  with  a  partial  choke, 
occasionally,  were  the  only  audible  indications  of  the 
great  man's  presence. 

The  temptation  to  be  present  at  the  ball,  and  to  form 
his  first  impressions  of  the  beauty  of  the  Kentish  ladies, 
was  strong  upon  Mr.  Tupman.  The  temptation  to  take 
the  stranger  with  him,  was  equally  great.  He  was 
wholly  unacquainted  with  the  place,  and  its  inhabitants; 
and  the  stranger  seemed  to  possess  as  great  a  knowledge 
of  both  as  if  he  had  lived  there  from  his  infancy.  Mr. 
Winkle  was  asleep,  and  Mr.  Tupman  had  had  sufficient 
experience  in  such  matters  to  know,  that  the  moment  he 
awoke,  he  would,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  roll 
heavily  to  bed.  He  was  undecided.  Fill  j^our  glass, 
and  pass  the  wine,"  said  the  indefatigable  visitor. 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  ,was  requested  ;  and  the  ad- 
ditional stimulus  of  the  last  glass  settled  his  determina- 
tion. 

"  Winkle's  bed-room  is  inside  mine,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

I  couldn't  make  him  understand  what  I  wanted,  if  I 
woke  him  now,  but  I  know  he  has  a  dress  suit  in  a 
carpet-bag;  and  supposing  you  wore  it  to  the  ball,  and 
took  it  off  when  we  returned,  I  could  replace  it  without 
troubling  him  at  all  about  the  matter." 

"  Capital,"  said  the  stranger,    famous  plan — damned 
odd  situation — fourteen  coats  in  the  packing  cases,  and 
obliged  to  wear  another  man's — very  good  notion,  that  r 
— very." 

We  must  purchase  our  tickets,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 
^'Not  worth  while  splitting  a  guinea,"  said  the 
stranger,  ^'toss  who  shall  pay  for  both — I  call;  you 
spin — first  time — woman — woman— bewitching  woman," 
and  down  came  the  sovereign,  with  the  Dragon  (called 
by  courtesy  a  woman)  uppermost. 


20  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Mr.  Tupman  rang  the  bell,  purchased  the  tickets,  and 
ordered  chamber  candlesticks.  In  another  quarter  of 
an  hour  the  stranger  was  completely  arrayed  in  a  full 
suit  of  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle's. 

It's  a  new  coat,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  as  the  stranger 
surveyed  himself  with  great  complacency  in  a  cheval 
glass.  ''The  first  that's  been  made  with  our  club  but- 
ton"— and  he  called  his  companion's  attention  to  the 
large  gilt  button  which  displayed  a  bust  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick in  the  centre,  and  the  letters  ''P.  C."  on  either 
side. 

''P.  C,"  said  the  stranger — "queer  set  out — old  fel- 
low's likeness,  and  '  P.  C — What  does  'P.  C  stand  for 
— Peculiar  Coat,  eh?"  Mr.  Tupman,  with  rising  in- 
dignation, and  great  importance,  explained  the  mystic 
device. 

"  Rather  short  in  the  waist,  an't  it?"  said  the  stranger, 
screwing  himself  round,  to  catch  a  glimpse  in  the  glass 
of  the  waist  buttons,  which  were  half  way  up  his  back. 
''Like  a  general  postman's  coat — queer  coats  those — 
made  by  contract — no  measuring — mysterious  dispensa- 
tions of  Providence — all  the  short  men  get  long  coats — 
all  the  long  men  short  ones."  Running  on  in  this  way, 
Mr.  Tupman's  new  companion  adjusted  his  dress,  or 
rather  the  dress  of  Mr.  Winkle;  and,  accompanied  by 
Mr.  Tupman,  ascended  the  staircase  leading  to  the  ball- 
room. 

"What  names,  sir?"  said  the  man  at  the  door.  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman  was  stepping  forward  to  announce  his 
own  titles,  when  the  stranger  prevented  him. 

"  No  names  at  all" — and  then  he  whispered  Mr.  Tup- 
man, "  Names  won't  do — not  know — very  good  names 
in  their  way,  but  no  great  ones — capital  names  for  a 
small  party,  but  won't  make  an  impression  in  public 
assemblies — incog,  the  thing — Gentlemen  from  London 
— distinguished  foreigners — anything."  The  door  was 
thrown  open;  and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  and  the  stranger, 
entered  the  ball-room. 

It  was  a  long  room,  with  crimson-covered  benches, 
and  wax  candles  in  glass  chandeliers.  The  musicians 
were  securely  confined  in  an  elevated  den,  and  quadrilles 
were  being  systematically  got  through  by  two  or  three 
sets  of  dancers.  Two  card-tables  were  made  up  in  the 
adjoxuing  card-room^  and  tWQ  pair  of  old  ladies,  ^ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  21 

corresponding  number  of  stout  gentlemen,  were  execut- 
ing whist  therein. 

The  finale  concluded,  the  dancers  promenaded  the 
room,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and  his  companion  stationed 
themselves  in  a  corner,  to  observe  the  company. 

"  Charming  women,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 
Wait  a  minute," isaid  the  stranger,  ''fun  presently 
— nobs  not  come  yet — queer  place — Dock-yard  people  of 
upper  rank  don't  know  Dock-yard  people  of  lower  rank — 
Dock-yard  people  of  lower  rank  don't  know  small  gentry 
— small  gentry  don't  know  tradespeople — Commissioner 
don't  know  anybody." 

"  Who's  that  little  boy  with  the  light  hair  and  pink 
eyes,  in  a  fapcy  dress?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Hush,  pray — pink  eyes — fancy  dress — little  boy — 
nonsense — Ensign  97th — Honorable  Wilmote  Snipe — 
great  family — Snipes — very." 

''Sir  Thomas  Clubber,  Lady  Clubber,  and  the  Misses 
Clubber!"  shouted  the  man  at  the  door  in  a  stentorian 
voice.  A  great  sensation  was  created  throughout  the 
room,  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall  gentleman  in  a  blue  coat 
and  bright  buttons,  a  large  lady  in  blue  satin,  and  two 
young  ladies  on  a  similar  scale,  in  fashionably-made 
dresses  of  the  same  hue. 

"  Commissioner — head  of  the  yard — great  man — re- 
markably great  man,"  whispered  the  stranger  in  Mr. 
Tupman's  ear,  as  the  charitable  committee  ushered  Sir 
Thomas  Clubber  and  family  to  the  top  of  the  room.  The 
HonourableWilmot  Snipe,  and  other  distinguished  gentle- 
men crowded  to  render  homage  to  the  Misses  Clubber; 
and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  stood  bolt  upright,  and  looked 
majestically  over  his  black  neckerchief  at  the  assembled 
company. 

"  Mr.  Smithie,  Mrs.  Smithie,  and  the  Misses  Smithie," 
was  the  next  announcement. 

"What's  Mr.  Smithie?"  inquired  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 

"Something  in  the  yard,"  replied  the  stranger.  Mr. 
Smithie  bowed  deferentially  to  Sir  Thomas  Clubber; 
and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  acknowledged  the  salute  with 
conscious  condescension.  Lady  Clubber  took  a  tele- 
scopic view  of  Mrs.  Smithie  and  family,  through  her 
^y^-glass,  and  Mrs.  Smithie  stared,  in  her  turn,  at  Mrs. 
Somebody  else,  whose  husband  was  not  in  the  Dock- 
yard at  all. 


22  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''Colonel  Bulder,  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and  Miss  Bul- 
der,"  were  the  next  arrivals. 

''Head  of  the  garrison/'  said  the  stranger,  in  reply  to 
Mr.  Tupman's  inquiring  look. 

Mrs.  Bulder  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  Misess  Club- 
ber; the  greeting  between  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and 
Lady  Clubber,  was  of  the  most  affectionate  description; 
Colonel  Bulder  and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  exchanged 
snuff-boxes,  and  looked  very  much  like  a  pair  of  Alex- 
ander Selkirks — ''Monarchs  of  all  they  surveyed." 

While  the  aristocracy  of  the  place — the  Bulders,  and 
Clubbers,  and  Snipes — were  thus  preserving  their  dignity 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  the  other  classes  of  society 
were  imitating  their  example  in  other  parts  of  it.  The 
less  aristocratic  officers  of  the  97th  devoted  tliemselves  to 
the  families  of  the  less  important  functionaries  from  the 
Dock-yard.  The  solicitors'  wives,  and  the  wine  merchant's 
wife,  headed  another  grade  (the  brewer's  wife  visited 
the  Bulders);  and  Mrs.  Tomlinson,  the  post-office  keeper, 
seemed  by  mutual  consent  to  have  been  the  leader  of  the 
trade  party. 

One  of  the  most  popular  personages,  in  his  own  circle, 

E resent  was  a  little  fat  man,  with  a  ring  of  upright 
lack  hair  round  his  head,  and  an  extensive  bald  plain 
on  the  top  of  it — Doctor  Slammer,  surgeon  to  the  Ninety- 
seventh.  The  doctor  took  snuff  with  everybody,  chatted 
with  everybody,  laughed,  danced,  made  jokes,  played 
whist,  did  everything,  and  was  everywhere.  To  these 
pursuits,  multifarious  as  they  were,  the  little  doctor 
added  a  more  important  one  than  any — he  was  inde- 
fatigable in  paying  the  most  unremitting  and  devoted 
attention  to  a  little  old  widow,  whose  rich  dress  and 
profusion  of  ornament  bespoke  her  a  most  desirable 
addition  to  a  limited  income. 

Upon  the  doctor,  and  the  widow,  the  eyes  of  both  Mr. 
Tupman  and  his  companion  had  been  fixed  for  some 
time,  when  the  stranger  broke  silence. 

"  Lots  of  money — old  girl — pompous  doctor — not  a  bad 
idea — good  fun,"  were  the  intelligible  sentences  which 
issued  from  his  lips.  Mr.  Tupman  looked  inquisitively 
in  his  face. 

"V\\  dance  with  the  widow,"  said  the  stranger. 

''Who  is  she?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Don't  know— never  saw  her  in  all  my  life— cut  out 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  23 

the  doctor — here  goes."  And  the  stranger  forthwith 
crossed  the  room;  and,  leaning  against  a  mantel-piece, 
commenced  gazing  with  an  air  of  respectful  and  melan- 
choly admiration  on  the  fat  countenance  of  the  little  old 
lady.  Mr.  Tupman  looked  on,  in  mute  astonishment. 
The  stranger  progressed  rapidly;  the  little  doctor  danced 
with  another  lady — the  widow  dropped  her  fan;  the 
stranger  picked  it  up,  and  presented  it — a  smile — a  bow 
— a  curtsey — a  f  ew^  words  of  conversation.  The  stranger 
walked  boldly  up  to,  and  returned  with,  the  master  of 
the  ceremonies;  a  little  introductory  pantomime;  and 
the  stranger  and  Mrs.  Budger  took  their  places  in  a 
quadrille. 

The  surprise  of  Mr.  Tupman  at  this  summary  pro- 
ceeding, great  as  it  was,  was  immeasurably  exceeded 
by  the  astonishment  of  the  doctor.    The  stranger  was 
young,  and  the  widow  was  flattered.    The  doctor's  atten- 
tions were  unheeded  by  the  widow;  and  the  doctor's 
indignation  was  wholly  lost  on  his  imperturbable  rival 
Dr.  Slammer  was  paralyzed.    He,  Dr.  Slammer  of  th 
Ninety-seventh,  to  be  extinguished  in  a  moment  by  i 
man  whom  nobody  had  ever  seen  before,  and  whon 
nobody  knew  even  now!    Doctor  Slammer — Docto 
Slammer  of  the  Mnety-seventh  rejected!  Impossible 
It  could  not  be!   Yes,  it  was;  there  they  were.  What, 
introducing  his  friend!   Could  he  believe  his  eyes!  He 
looked  again,  and  was  under  the  painful  necessity  of 
admitting  the  veracity  of  his  optics;  Mrs.  Budger  was 
dancing  with  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  there  was  no  mistaking 
the  fact.    There  was  the  widow  before  him,  bouncing- 
bodily,  here  and  there,  with  unwonted  vigour;  and  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman  hopping  about,  with  a  face  expressive  of 
the  most  intense  solemnity,  dancing  (as  a  good  many 
people  do)  as  if  a  quadrille  were  not  a  thing  to  be 
laughed  at,  but  a  severe  trial  to  the  feelings,  which  it 
requires  inflexible  resolution  to  encounter. 

Silently  and  patiently  did  the  doctor  bear  all  this,  and 
all  the  handings  of  negus,  and  watching  for  glasses,  and 
darting  for  biscuits,  and  coquetting,  that  ensued;  but,  a 
few  seconds  after  the  stranger  had  disappeared  to  lead 
Mrs.  Budger  to  her  carriage,  he  darted  swiftly  from  the 
room  with  every  particle  of  his  hitherto-bottled-up  indig- 
nation effervescing  from  all  parts  of  his  countenance,  in 
a  perspiration  of  passion. 


24  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

The  stranger  was  returning,  and  Mr.  Tupman  was 
beside  him.  He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  laughed.  The 
little  doctor  thirsted  for  his  life.  He  was  exulting.  He 
had  triumphed. 

"  Sir!"  said  the  doctor,  in  an  awful  voice,  producing  a 
card,  and  retiring  into  an  angle  of  the  passage,  ''my 
name  is  Slammer,  Dr.  Slammer,  sir — Ninety-seventh 
Regiment — Chatham  Barracks — my  card,  sir,  my  card.'' 
He  would  have  added  more,  but  his  indignation  choked 
him. 

''Ah!"  replied  the  stranger,  coolly,  "Slammer — much 
obliged — polite  attention — not  ill  now,  Slammer— but 
when  I  am — knock  you  up." 

"You — you're  a  shuffler,  sir,"  gasped  the  furious 
doctor,  "a  poltroon — a  coward — a  liar — a — a — will  noth- 
ing induce  you  to  give  me  your  card,  sir?" 

"Oh!  I  see,"  said  the  stranger,  half  aside,  "negus  too 
strong  here  —  liberal  landlprd — very  foolish  — very — 
lemonade  much  better — hot  rooms — elderly  gentleman 
— suffer  for  it  in  the  morning — cruel — cruel;"  and  he 
moved  on  a  step  or  two. 

"You  are  stopping  in  this  house,  sir,"  said  the  indig- 
nant little  man;  "you  are  intoxicated  now,  sir;  you 
shall  hear  from  me  in  the  morning,  sir.  I  shall  find  you 
out,  sir;  I  shall  find  you  out." 

"Rather  you  found  me  out,  than  found  me  at  home," 
replied  the  unmoved  stranger. 

Doctor  Slammer  looked  unutterable  ferocity,  as  he  fixed 
his  hat  on  his  head  with  an  indignant  knock:  and  the 
stranger  and  Mr.  Tupman  ascended  to  the  bed-room  of 
the  latter  to  restore  the  borrowed  plumage  to  the  uncon- 
scious Winkle. 

That  gentleman  was  fast  asleep;  the  restoration  was 
soon  made.  The  stranger  was  extremely  jocose;  and 
Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  being  quite  bewildered  with  wine, 
negus,  lights,  and  ladies,  thought  the  whole  affair  an 
exquisite  joke.    His  new  friend  departed;  and,  after  ex- 

geriencing  some  slight  difficulty  in  finding  the  orifice  in 
is  nightcap,  originally  intended  for  the  reception  of  his 
head,  and  finally  overturning  his  candlestick  in  his 
struggles  to  put  it  on,  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  managed  to 
get  into  bed  by  a  series  of  complicated  evolutions,  and 
shortly  afterwards  sank  into  repose. 
Seven  o'clock  had  hardly  ceased  striking  on  the  fol- 


DR.  slammer's  defiance  OF  JINGLE. 


Pickwick  Papers. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  25 

lowing  morning,  when  Mr.  Pickwick's  comprehensive 
mind  was  aroused  from  the  state  of  unconsciousness, 
in  which  slumber  had  plunged  it,  by  a  loud  knocking  at 
his  chamber  door. 

''Who's  there?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting  up  in  bed. 

•'Boots,  sir." 

"  What  do  you  want?" 

'"  Please,  sir,  can  you  tell  me  which  gentleman  of  your 
party  wears  a  bright  blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt  button 
with  P.  C.  on  it?" 

"  It's  been  given  out  to  brush,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick; 
and  the  man  has  forgotten  whom  it  belongs  to — "Mr. 
Winkle,"  he  called  out,  "  next  room  but  two,  on  the  right 
hand." 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,"  said  the  Boots,  and  away  he  went. 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  Mr.  Tupman,  as  a  loud 
knocking  at  his  door  roused  him  from  his  oblivious 
repose. 

"Can  I  speak  to  Mr,  Winkle,  sir?"  replied  the  Boots, 
from  the  outside. 

"  Winkle— Winkle,"  shouted  Mr.  Tupman,  calling  into 
the  inner  room. 

"  Hallo  1"  replied  a  faint  voice  from  within  the  bed- 
clothes. 

"You're  wanted — some  one  at  the  door"— and  having 
exerted  himself  to  articulate  this  much,  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man turned  round  and  fell  fast  asleep  again. 

"Wanted!"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hastily  jumping  out  of 
bed,  and  putting  on  a  few  articles  of  clothing:  "  wanted! 
at  this  distance  from  town — who  on  earth  can  want 
me!" 

"Gentleman  in  the  coffee-room,  sir,"  replied  the  Boots, 
as  Mr.  Winkle  opened  the  door,  and  confronted  him; 
"  gentleman  says  he'll  not  detain  you  a  moment,  sir, 
but  he  can  take  no  denial." 

"Very  odd!"  said  Mr.  Winkle;  "  I'll  be  down  directly." 

He  hurriedly  wrapped  himself  in  a  travelling-shawl, 
and  dressing-gown,  and  proceeded  down  stairs.  An  old 
woman  and  a  couple  of  waiters  were  cleaning  the  coffee- 
room,  and  an  officer  in  undress  uniform  was  looking  out 
of  the  window.  He  turned  round  as  Mr.  Winkle  entered, 
and  made  a  stiff  inclination  of  the  head.  Having  ordered 
the  attendants  to  retire,  and  closed  the  door  very  care- 
fully, he  said,  "Mr.  Winkle,  I  presume?" 


20  POSTHUMOUS  PAPEKS  OF 

^^My  name  is  Winkle,  sir/^ 
You  will  not  be  surprised,  sir,  when  I  inform  you, 
that  I  have  called  here  this  morning  on  behalf  of  my 
friend.  Dr.  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety-seventh." 

''Doctor  Slammer!"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Doctor  Slammer.  He  begged  me  to  express  his  opin- 
ion that  your  conduct  of  last  evening  was  of  a  descrip- 
tion which  no  gentleman  could  endure:  and  (he  added) 
which  no  one  gentleman  would  pursue  towards  another." 

Mr.  Winkle's  astonishment  was  too  real,  and  too  evi- 
dent, to  escape  the  observation  of  Doctor  Slammer's 
friend;  he  therefore  proceeded:  ''My  friend,  Doctor 
Slammer,  requested  me  to  add,  that  he  is  firmly  per- 
suaded you  were  intoxicated  during  a  portion  of  the 
evening,  and  possibly  unconscious  of  the  extent  of  the 
insult  you  were  guilty  of.  He  commissioned  me  to  say, 
that  should  this  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for  your  be- 
haviour, he  will  consent  to  accept  a  written  apology,  tc 
be  penned  by  you,  from  my  dictation." 

"A  written  apology!"  repeated  Mr.  Winkle,  in  th€ 
most  emphatic  tone  of  amazement  possible. 

"  Of  course  you  know  the  alternative,"  replied  the  vis- 
itor, coolly. 

"Were  you  entrusted  with  this  message  to  me,  bj' 
name?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  whose  intellects  were 
hopelessly  confused  by  this  extraordinary  conversation. 

"I  was  not  present  myself,"  replied  the  visitor,  "  and, 
in  consequence  of  your  firm  refusal  to  give  your  card  to 
Doctor  Slammer,  I  was  desired  by  that  gentleman  to 
identify  the  wearer  of  a  very  uncommon  coat — a  bright 
blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt  button,  displaying  a  bust, 
and  the  letters  'P.  C" 

Mr.  Winkle  actually  staggered  with  astonishment,  as 
he  heard  his  own  costume  thus  minutely  described. 
Doctor  Slammer's  friend  proceeded: 

"From  the  inquiries  I  made  at  the  bar,  just  now,  I 
was  convinced  that  the  owner  of  the  coat  in  question 
arrived  here,  with  three  gentlemen,  yesterday  afternoon. 
I  immediately  sent  up  to  the  gentleman  who  was 
described  as  appearing  the  head  of  the  party;  and  he,  at 
once,  referred  me  to  you." 

If  the  principal  tower  of  Rochester  Castle  had  suddenly 
walked  from  its  foundation,  and  stationed  itself  opposite 
the  coffee-room  window,  Mr.  Winkle's  surprise  would 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


27 


have  been  as  nothing,  compared  with  the  profomid 
astonishment  with  which  he  had  heard  this  address.  His 
first  impression  was,  that  his  coat  had  been  stolen. 

Will  you  allow  me  to  detain  you  one  moment?"  said  he. 

"  Certainly,''  replied  the  unwelcome  visitor. 

Mr.  Winkle  ran  hastily  up-stairs,  and  with  a  trembling 
hand  opened  the  bag.  There  was  the  coat  in  its  usual 
place,  but  exhibiting,  on  a  close  inspection,  evident 
tokens  of  having  been  worn  on  the  preceding  night. 

"  It  must  be  so,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  letting  the  coat  fall 
from  his  hands.  ''I  took  too  much  wine  after  dinner, 
and  have  a  very  vague  recollection  of  walking  about 
the  streets,  and  smoking  a  cigar,  afterwards.  The  fact 
is,  I  was  very  drunk — I  must  have  changed  my  coat — 
gone  somewhere — and  insulted  somebody — I  have  no 
doubt  of  it;  and  this  message  is  the  terrible  consequence." 
Saying  which,  Mr.  Winkle  retraced  his  steps  in  the 
direction  of  the  coffee-room,  with  the  gloomj^  and  dread- 
ful resolve  of  accepting  the  challenge  of  the  warlike 
Doctor  Slammer,  and  abiding  by  the  worst  consequences 
that  might  ensue. 

To  this  determination  Mr.  Winkle  was  urged  by  a 
variety  of  considerations;  the  first  of  which  was,  his 
reputation  with  the  club.  He  had  always  been  looked 
up  to  as  a  high  authority  on  all  matters  of  amusement 
and  dexterity,  whether  offensive,  defensive,  or  inoffen- 
sive; and  if,  on  this  very  first  occasion  of  being  put  to 
the  test,  he  shrunk  back  from  the  trial,  beneath  his 
leader's  eye,  his  name  and  standing  were  lost  forever. 
Besides,  he  remembered  to  have  heard  it  frequently  sur- 
mised by  the  uninitiated  in  such  matters,  that  by  an 
understood  arrangement  between  the  seconds,  the  pistols 
were  seldom  loaded  with  ball;  and,  furthermore,  he 
reflected  that  if  he  applied  to  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  act  as  his 
second,  and  depicted  the  danger  in  glowing  terms,  that 
gentleman  might  possibly  communicate  the  intelligence 
to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  would  certainly  lose  no  time  in 
transmitting  it  to  the  local  authorities,  and  thus  prevent 
the  killing  or  maiming  of  his.  follower. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  when  he  returned  to  the  coffee- 
room,  and  intimated  his  intention  of  accepting  the 
doctor's  challenge. 

''Will  you  refer  me  to  a  friend,  to  arrange  the  time 
and  place  of  meeting?"  said  the  officer. 


28  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''Quite  unnecessary/'  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  ''name 
them  to  me,  and  I  can  procure  the  attendance  of  a  friend, 
afterwards." 

"Shall  we  say — sunset  this  evening?"  inquired  the 
officer,  in  a  careless  tone. 

"  Very  good,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  thinking  in  his  heart 
it  was  very  bad. 

"You  know  Fort  Pitt?" 

"  Yes;  I  saw  it  yesterday." 

"If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  turn  into  the  field 
which  borders  the  trench,  take  the  foot-path  to  the  left, 
when  you  arrive  at  an  angle  of  the  fortification;  and 
keep  straight  on  till  you  see  me;  I  will  precede  you  to 
a  secluded  place,  where  the  affair  can  be  conducted 
without  fear  of  interruption." 

"  Fear  of  interruption!"  thought  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Nothing  more  to  arrange,  I  think,"  said  the  officer. 

"  I  am  not  aware  of  anything  more,"  replied  Mr. 
Winkle. 

' '  Good  morning. 

"  Good  morning:"  and  the  officer  whistled  a  lively  air, 
as  he  strode  away. 

That  morning's  breakfast  passed  heavily  off.  Mr. 
Tupman  was  not  in  a  condition  to  rise,  after  the  un- 
wonted dissipation  of  the  previous  night;  Mr.  Snodgrass 
appeared  to  labour  under  a  poetical  depression  of  spirits; 
and  even  Mr.  Pickwick  evinced  an  unusual  attachment 
to  silence  and  soda  water.  Mr.  Winkle  eagerly  watched 
his  opportunity.  It  was  not  long  wanting.  Mr.  Snod- 
grass proposed  a  visit  to  the  castle,  and  as  Mr.  Winkle 
was  the  only  other  member  of  the  party  disposed  to  walk, 
they  went  out  together. 

"  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  when  they  had  turned 
out  of  the  public  street ;  "  Snodgrass,  my  dear  fellow,  can 
I  rely  upon  your  secrecy  ?  "  As  he  said  this  he  most  de- 
voutly and  earnestly  hoped  he  could  not. 

'  'You  can, "  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.  '  'Hear  me  swear — " 
"No,  no,"  interrupted  Winkle,  terrified  at  the  idea  of 
his  companion 's  unconsciously  pledging  himself  not  to 
give  information;  "don't  swear,  don't  swear;  it's  quite 
unnecessary." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  dropped  the  hand  which  he  had,  in  the 
spirit  of  poesy,  raised  towards  the  clouds,  as  he  made  the 
above  appeal,  and  assumed  an  attitude  of  attention. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  29 

^'I  want  your  assistance,  my  dear  fellow,  in  an  affair 
of  honour/'"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

''You  shall  have  it/'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass,  clasping 
his  friend's  hand. 

''With  a  doctor  —  Doctor  Slammer,  of  the  Mnety- 
seventh,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  wishing  to  make  the  matter 
appear  as  solemn  as  possible ;  an  affair  with  an  officer, 
seconded  by  another  officer,  at  sunset  this  evening,  in  a 
lonely  field  beyond  Fort  Pitt." 

"I  will  attend  you,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

He  was  astonished,  but  by  no  means  dismayed.  It  is 
extraordinary  how  cool  any  party  but  the  principal  can 
be  in  such  cases.  Mr.  Winkle  had  forgotten  this.  He 
had  judged  of  his  friend 's  feelings  by  his  own. 

"  The  consequences  may  be  dreadful,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

•'I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"The  doctor,  I  believe,  is  a  very  good  shot,"  said  Mr. 
Winkle. 

"Most  of  these  military  men  are,"  observed  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, calmly,  "  but  so  are  you,  an't  you  ?'^ 

Mr.  Winkle  replied  in  the  affirmative  ;  and  perceiving 
that  he  had  not  alarmed  his  companion  sufficiently, 
changed  his  ground. 

"Snodgrass,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emo- 
tion, "if  I  fall,  you  will  find  in  a  packet  which  I  shall 
place  in  your  hands  a  note  for  my — for  my  father." 

This  attack  was  a  failure  also.  Mr.  Snodgrass  was 
affected,  but  he  undertook  the  delivery  of  the  note,  as 
readily  as  if  he  had  been  a  Twopenny  Postman. 

"If  I  fail,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "or  if  the  doctor  falls, 
vou,  my  dear  friend,  will  be  tried  as  an  accessory 
before  the  fact.  Shall  I  involve  my  friend  in  transpor- 
tation— possibly  for  life  ! " 

Mr.  Snodgrass  winced  a  little  at  this,  but  his  heroism 
was  invincible.  "In  the  cause  of  friendship,"  he  fer- 
vently exclaimed,  "I  would  brave  all  dangers." 

How  Mr.  Winkle  cursed  his  companion's  devoted 
friendship  internally,  as  they  walked  silently  along, 
side  by  side,  for  some  minutes,  each  immersed  in  his 
meditations  !  The  morning  was  wearing  away;  he  grew 
desperate. 

"Snodgrass,"  he  said,  stopping  suddenly,  "do  not  let 
me  be  baulked  in  this  matter — do  not  give  information 
to  the  local  authorities — do  not  obtain  the  assistance  of 


30  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


several  peace  officers,  to  take  either  me  or  Doctor  Slam- 
mer, of  the  Ninety-seventh  Regiment,  at  present  quartered 
in  Chatham  Barracks,  into  custody,  and  thus  prevent 
this  duel ;  I  say  do  not,'' 

Mr.  Snodgrass  seized  his  friend's  hand  warmly,  as  he 
enthusiastically  replied,  ''Not  for  worlds  !" 

A  thrill  passed  over  Mr.  Winkle's  frame,  as  the  con- 
viction that  he  had  nothing  to  hope  from  his  friend's 
fears,  and  that  he  was  destined  to  become  an  animated 
target,  rushed  forcibly  upon  him. 

The  state  of  the  case  having  been  formally  explained 
to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  a  case  of  satisfaction  pistols,  with 
the  satisfactory  accompaniments  of  powder,  ball,  and 
caps,  having  been  hired  from  a  manufacturer  in  Roch- 
ester, the  two  friends  returned  to  their  inn:  Mr.  Winkle, 
to  ruminate  on  the  approaching  struggle;  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass to  arrange  the  weapons  of  war,  and  put  them  into 
proper  order  for  immediate  use. 

It  was  a  dull  and  heavy  evening,  when  they  again 
sallied  forth  on  their  awkward  errand.  Mr.  Winkle  was 
muffled  up  in  a  huge  cloak  to  escape  observation ;  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  under  his  the  instruments  of  de- 
struction. 

''Have  you  got  everything?"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in  an 
agitated  tone. 

"Ev'ry thing,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass;  "plenty  of  am- 
munition, in  case  the  shots  don't  take  effect.  There's  a 
quarter  of  a  pound  of  powder  in  the  case,  and  I  have  got 
two  newspapers  in  my  pocket,  for  the  loadings." 

These  were  instances  of  friendship,  for  which  any 
man  might  reasonably  feel  most  grateful.  The  presump- 
tion is  that  the  gratitude  of  Mr.  Winkle  was  too  powerful 
for  utterance,  as  he  said  nothing,  but  continued  to  walk 
on — rather  slowly. 

"We  are  in  excellent  time,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as 
they  climbed  the  fence  of  the  first  field;  "the  sun  is  just 
going  down."  Mr.  Winkle  looked  up  at  the  declining 
orb,  and  painfully  thought  of  the  probability  of  his 
"going  down"  himself  before  long. 

"There's  the  officer,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  after  a 
few  minutes'  walking. 

"Where?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"There — the  gentleman  in  the  blue  cloak."  Mr. 
Snodgrass  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  fore- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


31 


finger  of  his  friend,  and  observed  a  figure,  muffled  up 
as  he  had  described.  The  officer  evinced  his  conscious- 
ness of  their  presence  by  slightly  beckoning  with  his 
hand  ;  and  the  two  friends  followed  him,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, as  he  walked  away. 

The  evening  grew  more  dull  every  moment,  and  a 
!  melancholy  wind  sounded  through  the  deserted  fields, 
like  a  distant  giant  whistling  for  his  house-dog.  The 
sadness  of  the  scene  imparted  a  sombre  tinge  to  the 
feelings  of  Mr.  Wmkle.  He  started,  as  they  passed  the 
angle  of  the  trench— it  looked  like  a  colossal  grave. 

The  officer  turned  suddenly  from  the  path  ;  and  after 
climbing  a  paling,  and  scaling  a  hedge,  entered  a 
secluded  field  Two  gentlemen  were  waiting  in  it ;  one 
was  a  little  fat  man,  with  black  hair  ;  and  the  other — a 
portly  personage  in  a  braided  surtout — was  sitting  with 
perfect  equanimity  on  a  camp-stool. 

The  other  party,  and  a  surgeon,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass  ;  ''take  a  drop  of  brandy."  Mr.  Winkle  seized 
the  wicker  bottle,  which  his  friend  proffered,  and  took  a 
lengthened  pull  at  the  exhilarating  liquid. 

•'My  friend,  sir,  Mr.  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  as 
the  officer  approached.  Doctor  Slammer's  friend  bowed, 
and  produced  a  case  similar  to  that  which  Mr.  Snod- 
grass carried. 

We  have  nothing  further  to  say,  sir,  I  think,"  he 
coldly  remarked,  as  he  opened  the  case  ;  an  apology  has 
been  resolutely  declined." 

''Nothing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  began  to  feel 
rather  uncomfortable  himself. 

"  Will  you  step  forward  ?"  said  the  officer. 
•  "Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.    The  ground  was 
measured,  and  preliminaries  arranged. 

*'  You  will  find  these  better  than  your  own,"  said  the 
opposite  second,  producing  his  pistols.  "You  saw  me 
load  them.    Do  you  object  to  use  them  ?" 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.  The  offer 
relieved  him  from  considerable  embarrassment:  for  his 
previous  notions  of  loading  a  pistol  were  rather  vague 
and  undefined. 

"  We  may  place  our  men,  then,  I  think,"  observed  the 
officer,  with  as  mucli  indiffere.ice  as  if  the  principals 
were  chess-men,  and  the  seconds  players. 

"I  think  we  may,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass  ;  who  would 


32  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

have  assented  to  any  proposition,  because  he  knew 
nothing  about  the  matter.  The  officer  crossed  to  Dr. 
Slammer  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  went  up  to  Mr.  Winkle. 

*'It's  all  ready,"  he  said,  offering  the  pistol.  Give 
me  your  cloak." 

You  have  got  the  packet,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  poor 
Winkle. 

''All  right,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass.  ''Be  steady,  and 
wing  him." 

It  occurred  to  Mr.  Winkle  that  the  advice  was  very 
like  that  which  bystanders  invariably  give  to  the 
smallest,  boy  in  a  street  fight,  namely,  "Go  in,  and 
win  " — an  admirable  thing  to  recommend,  if  you  only 
know  how  to  do  it.  He  took  off  his  cloak,  however,  in 
silence — it  always  took  a  long  time  to  undo  that  cloak — 
and  accepted  the  pistol.  The  seconds  retired,  the  gen- 
tleman on  the  camp-stool  did  the  same,  and  the  belliger- 
ents approached  each  other. 

Mr.  Winkle  was  always  remarkable  for  extreme 
humanity.  It  is  conjectured  that  his  unwillingness  to 
hurt  a  fellow-creature  intentionally  was  the  cause  of 
his  shutting  his  eyes  when  he  arrived  at  the  fatal  spot ; 
and  that  the  circumstance  of  his  eyes  being  closed  pre- 
vented his  observing  the  very  extraordinary  and  un- 
accountable demeanour  of  Dr.  Slammer.  That  gentle- 
man started,  stared,  retreated,  rubbed  his  eyes,  stared 
again ;  and,  finally,  shouted,  "  Stop,  stop  !" 

"  What's  all  this  ? "  said  Doctor  Slammer,  as  his  friend 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass  came  running  up — "That's  not  the 
man." 

"  Not  the  man  ! "  said  Doctor  Slammer's  second. 

"  Not  the  man  ! "  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"Not  the  man!"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp- 
stool  in  his  hand. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  little  doctor.  "That's  not 
the  person  who  insulted  me  last  night." 

"Very  extraordinary!"  exclaimed  the  officer. 

"Very,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp-stooL 
"The  only  question  is,  whether  the  gentleman,  bein^ 
on  the  ground,  must  not  be  considered,  as  a  matter  ol 
form,  to  be  the  individual  who  insulted  our  friend,  Doc- 
tor Slammer,  yesterday  evening,  whether  he  is  really 
that  individual  or  not :  "  and  having  delivered  this  sug- 
gestion, with  a  very  sage  and  mysterious  air,  the  man 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


33 


with  the  camp-stool  took  a  large  pinch  of  snuff,  and 
looked  profoundly  round,  with  the  air  of  an  authority  in 
such  matters. 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  had  opened  his  eyes,  and  his  ears 
too,  when  he  heard  his  adversary  call  out  for  a  cessation 
of  hostilities;  and  perceiving  by  what  he  had  afterwards 
said,  that  there  was  beyond  all  question  some  mistake 
in  the  matter,  he  at  once  foresaw  the  increase  of  repu- 
tation he  should  inevitably  acquire  by  concealing  the 
real  motive  of  his  coming  out ;  he  therefore  stepped 
boldly  forward,  and  said — 

"  I  am  not  the  person.    I  know  it.'' 

"  Then,  that,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  ^'  is 
an  affront  to  Doctor  Slammer,  and  a  sufficient  reason  for 
proceeding  immediately." 

*'Pray  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the  doctor's  second. 

Why  did  you  not  communicate  this  fact  to  me  this 
morning,  sir?" 

To  be  sure — to  be  sure,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp- 
stool,  indignantly. 

"  I  entreat  you  to  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the  other. 
"  May  I  repeat  my  question,  sir  ?  " 

"  Because,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  had  time 
to  deliberate  upon  his  answer — ''because,  sir,  you  de- 
scribed an  intoxicated  and  ungentlemanly  person  as 
wearing  a  coat,  which  I  have  the  honour,  not  only  to 
wear,  but  to  have  invented — the  proposed  uniform,  sir  of 
of  the  Pickv/ick  Club  in  London.  The  honour  of  that 
uniform  I  feel  bound  to  maintain,  and  I  therefore,  with- 
out inquiry,  accepted  the  challenge  which  you  offered 
me." 

''My  dear  sir,"  said  the  good-humoured  little  doctor, 
advancing  with  extended  hand,  "I  honour  your  gal- 
lantry. Permit  me  to  say,  sir,  that  I  highly  admire  your 
conduct,  and  extremely  regret  having  caused  you  the 
inconvenience  of  this  nieetin^,  to  no  purpose." 

"  I  beg  you  won't  mention  it,  sir,  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I  shall  feel  proud  of  your  acquaintance,  sir,"  said 
the  little  doctor. 

"  It  will  afford  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  know  you, 
sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  Thereupon  the  doctor  and 
Mr.  Winkle  shook  hands,  and  then  Mr.  Winkle  and 
Lieutenant  Tappleton  (the  doctor's  second),  and  then 
Mr.  Winkle  and  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  and  finally 


34  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  :  the  last-named  gentle- 
man in  an  excess  of  admiration  at  the  noble  conduct  of 
his  heroic  friend. 

"  I  think  we  may  adjourn/' said  Lieutenant  Tappleton. 

"  Certainly,"  added  the  doctor. 
Unless,"  interposed  the  man  with  the  camp-stool ; 
''unless  Mr.  Winkle  feels  himself  aggrieved  by  the 
challenge  ;  in  which  case,  I  submit,  he  has  a  right  to 
satisfaction." 

Mr.  Winkle,  with  great  self-denial,  expressed  himself 
quite  satisfied  already. 

"  Or  possibly,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  ''the 
gentleman's  second  may  feel  himself  affronted  with 
some  observations  which  fell  from  me  at  an  early  period 
of  this  meeting:  if  so,  I  shall  be  happy  to  give  him  sat- 
isfaction immediately." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  hastily  professed  himself  very  much 
obliged  with  the  handsome  offer  of  the  gentleman  who 
had  spoken  last,  which  he  was  only  induced  to  decline 
by  his  entire  contentment  with  the  whole  proceedings. 
The  two  seconds  adjusted  the  cases,  and  the  whole  party 
left  the  ground  in  a  much  more  lively  manner  than  they 
had  proceeded  to  it. 

"Do  you  remain  long  here?"  inquired  Doctor  Slam- 
mer of  Mr.  Winkle,  as  they  walked  on  most  amicably 
together. 

"I  think  we  shall  leave  here  the  day  after  to-morrow," 
was  the  reply. 

"I  trust  1  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  and 
your  friend  at  my  rooms,  and  of  spending  a  pleasant 
evening  with  you,  after  this  awkward  mistake,"  sa-id  the 
little  doctor;  "are  you  disengaged  this  evening  ?" 

"We  have  some  friends  here,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle, 
"  and  I  should  not  like  to  leave  them  to-night.  Perhaps 
you  and  your  friend  will  join  us  at  the  Bull." 

"With  great  pleasure,"  said  the  little  doctor;  "will 
ten  o'clock  be  too  late  to  look  in  for  half  an  hour?" 

"Oh  dear,  no,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "I  shall  be  most 
happy  to  introduce  you  to  my  friends,  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Tupman." 

"  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure,  I  am  sure,"  replied 
Doctor  Slammer,  little  suspecting  who  Mr.  Tupman  was, 

"You  will  be  sure  to  come?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 

"  Oh,  certainly." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


35 


By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  road.  Cordial  fare- 
wells were  exchanged,  and  the  party  separated.  Doctor 
Slammer  and  his  friends  repaired  to  the  barracks,  and 
Mr.  Winkle,  accompanied  by  his  friend,  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
returned  to  their  inn. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.     THE  STROLLER'S  TALE.  A 
DISAGREEABLE  INTERRUPTION,  AND  AN  UN- 
PLEASANT RENCONTRE. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  felt  some  apprehensions  in  conse- 
quence of  the  unusual  absence  of  his  two  friends,  which 
their  mysterious  behaviour  during  the  whole  morning 
had  by  no  means  tended  to  diminish.  It  was,  therefore, 
with  more  than  ordinary  pleasure  that  he  rose  to  greet 
them  when  they  again  entered;  and  with  more  than  or- 
dinary interest  that  he  inquired  what  had  occurred  to 
detain  them  from  his  society.  In  reply  to  his  questions 
on  this  point,  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to  offer  an  his- 
torical account  of  the  circumstances  just  now  detailed, 
when  he  was  suddenly  checked,  by  observing  that  there 
were  present  not  only  Mr.  Tupman  and  their  stage-coach 
companion  of  the  pre<?eding  day,  but  another  stranger 
of  equally  singular  appearance.  It  was  a  care-worn 
looking  man,  whose  sallow  face  and  deeply  sunken 
eyes  were  rendered  still  more  striking  than  nature  had 
made  them,  by  the  straight  black  hair  which  hung  in 
matted  disorder  half  way  down  his  face.  His  eyes  were 
almost  unnaturally  bright  and  piercing;  his  cheek-bones 
were  high  and  prominent;  and  his  jaws  were  so  long 
and  lank,  that  an  observer  would  have  supposed  that  he 
was  drawing  the  flesh  of  his  face  in,  for  a  moment,  by 
some  contraction  of  the  muscles,  if  his  half  opened 
mouth  and  immovable  expression  had  not  announced 
that  it  was  his  ordinary  appearance.  Round  his  neck  he 
wore  a  green  shawl,  with  the  large  ends  straggling  over 
his  chest,  and  making  their  appearance  occasionally, 
beneath  the  worn  button-holes  of  his  old  waistcoat.  His 
upper  garment  was  a  long  black  surtout;  and  below  it 


36  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

he  wore  wide  drab  trousers,  and  large  boots,  running 
rapidly  to  seed. 

It  was  on  this  uncouth-looking  person  that  Mr.  Win- 
kle's eye  rested,  and  it  was  towards  him  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick extended  his  hand,  when  he  said,  '^A  friend  of 
our  friend's  here.  We  discovered  this  morning  that  our 
friend  was  connected  with  the  theatre  in  this  place, 
though  he  is  not  desirous  to  have  it  generally  known, 
and  this  gentleman  is  a  member  of  the  same  profession. 
He  was  about  to  favour  us  with  a  little  anecdote  con- 
nected with  it,  when  you  entered. 

''Lots  of  anecdote,"  said  the  green-coated  stranger  of 
the  day  before,  advancing  to  Mr.  Winkle  and  speaking 
in  a  low,  confidential  tone.  /'Rum  fellow — does  the 
heavy  business — no  actor — strange  man — all  •  sorts  of 
miseries — Dismal  Jemmy,  we  call  him  on  the  circuit." 
Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  politely  welcomed  the 
gentleman;  elegantly  designated  as  "Dismal  Jemmy;" 
and  calling  for  brandy  and  water,  in  imitation  of  the 
remainder  of  the  company,  seated  themselves  at  the 
table. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "will  you  oblige  us 
with  proceeding  with  what  you  were  going  to  relate?" 

The  dismal  individual  took  a  dirty  roll  of  paper  from 
his  pocket,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  had  just 
taken  out  his  note-book,  said,  in  a  hollow  voice,  per- 
fectly in  keeping  with  his  outward  man — "  Are  you  the 
poet?"  • 

"I — I  do  a  little  in  that  way,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
rather  taken  aback  by  the  abruptness  of  the  question. 

"Ah!  poetry  makes  life  what  lights  and  music  do  the 
stage.  Strip  the  one  of  its  false  embellishments,  and 
the  other  of  its  illusions,  and  what  is  there  real  in  either 
to  live  or  care  for?" 

"Very  true,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"To  be  before  the  footlights,"  continued  the  dismal 
man,  "  is  like  sitting  at  a  grand  court  show,  and  admir- 
ing the  silken  dresses  of  the  gaudy  throng — to  be  behind 
them,  is  to  be  the  people  who  make  that  finery,  uncared 
for  and  unknown,  and  left  to  sink  or  swim,  to  starve  or 
live,  as  fortune  wills  it." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass:  for  the  sunken  eye  of 
the  dismal  man  rested  on  him,  and  he  felt  it  necessary 
to  say  something. 


THE  PICKWICK.  CLUB. 


37 


''Go  on,  Jemmy/' said  the  Spanish  traveller,  ''like 
black-eyed  Susan — all  in  the  Downs — no  croaking — speak 
out — look  lively." 

"Will  you  make  another  glass  before  you  begin,  sir?" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  dismal  man  took  the  hint,  and  having  mixed 
a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,  and  slowly  swallowed 
half  of  it,  opened  the  roll  of  paper  and  proceeded,  partly 
to  read  and  partly  to  relate,  the  following  incident, 
which  we  find  recorded  on  the  Transactions  of  the  club, 
as  "  The  Stroller's  Tale." 

THE  stroller's  TALE. 

"There  is  nothing  of  the  marvellous  in  what  I  am 
going  to  relate,"  said  the  dismal  man  ;  "there  is  nothing 
even  uncommon  in  it.  Want  and  sickness  are  too  com- 
mon in  many  stations  of  life,  to  deserve  more  notice  than 
is  usually  bestowed  on  the  most  ordinary  vicissitudes  of 
human  nature.  I  have  thrown  these  few  notes  together, 
because  the  subject  of  them  was  well  known  to  me  for 
many  years.  I  traced  his  progress  downwards,  step  by 
step,  until  at  last  he  reached  that  excess  of  destitution 
from  which  he  never  rose  again. 

"The  man  of  whom  I  speak  was  a  low  pantomime 
actor;  and,  like  many  people  of  his  class,  an  habitual 
drunkard.  In  his  better  days,  before  he  had  become 
enfeebled  by  dissipation  and  emaciated  by  disease,  he 
had  been  in  the  receipt  of  a  good  salary,  which,  if  he 
had  been  careful  and  prudent,  lie  might  have  continued 
to  receive  for  some  years — not  many;  because  these  men 
either  die  early,  or,  by  unnaturally  taxing  their  bodily 
energies,  lose,  prematurely,  those  physical  powers  on 
which  alone  they  can  depend  for  subsistence.  His  be- 
setting sin  gained  so  fast  upon  him,  however,  that  it 
was  found  impossible  to  employ  him  in  the  situations  in 
which  he  really  was  useful  to  the  theatre.  The  public- 
house  had  a  fascination  for  him  which  he  could  not 
resist.  Neglected  disease  and  hopeless  poverty  were  as 
certain  to  be  his  portion  as  death  itself,  if  he  persevered 
in  the  same  course;  yet  he  did  persevere,  and  the  result 
may  be  guessed.  He  could  obtain  no  engagement,  and 
he  wanted  bread. 

"Everybody  who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  theatrical 


38 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


matters,  knows  what  a  host  of  shabby,  poverty-stricken 
men,  hang  around  the  stage  of  a  large  establishment— 
not  regularly  engaged  actors,  but  ballet  people,  proces- 
sion men,  tumblers,  and  so  forth,  who  are  taken  on  dur- 
ing the  run  of  a  pantomime  or  an  Easter  piece,  and  are 
then  discharged:  until  the  production  of  some  heavy 
spectacle  occasions  a  new  demand  for  their  services. 
To  this  mode  of  life  the  man  was  compelled  to  resort; 
and  taking  the  chair  every  night,  at  some  low  theatrical 
house,  at  once  put  him  in  possession  of  a  few  more  shil- 
lings weekly,  and  enabled  him  to  gratify  his  old  propen- 
sity. Even  this  resource  shortly  failed  him;  his  irregu- 
larities were  too  great  to  admit  of  his  earning  the 
wretched  pittance  he  might  thus  have  procured,  and  he 
was  actually  reduced  to  a  state  bordering  on  starvation, 
only  procuring  a  trifle  occasionally  by  borrowing  it  of 
some  old  companion,  or  by  obtaining  an  appearance  at 
one  or  other  of  the  commonest  of  the  minor  theatres; 
and  when  he  did  earn  anything,  it  was  spent  in  the  old 
way. 

About  this  time,  and  when  he  had  been  existing  for 
upwards  of  a  year  no  one  knew  how,  I  had  a  short  en- 
gagement at  one  of  the  theatres  on  the  Surrey  side  of 
the  water,  and  here  I  saw  this  man,  whom  I  had  lost 
sight  of  for  some  time;  for  I  had  been  travelling  in  the 
provinces,  and  he  had  been  skulking  in  the  lanes  and 
alleys  of  London.  I  was  dressed  to  leave  the  house,  and 
was  crossing  the  stage  on  my  way  out,  when  he  tapped 
me  on  the  shoulder.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  repulsive 
sight  that  met  my  eye  when  I  turned  round.  He  was 
dressed  for  the  pantomime,  in  all  the  absurdity  of  a 
clown's  costume.  The  spectral  figures  in  the  Dance  of 
Death,  the  most  frightful  shapes  that  the  ablest  painter 
ever  portrayed  on  canvas,  never  presented  an  appear- 
ance half  so  ghastly.  His  bloated  body  and  shrunken 
legs — their  deformity  enhanced  a  hundred  fold  by  the 
fantastic  dress — the  glassy  eyes,  contrasting  fearfully 
with  the  thick  white  paint  with  which  the  face  was 
besmeared;  the  grotesquely  ornamented  head,  trembling 
with  paralysis,  and  the  long  skinny  hands,  rubbed  with 
white  chalk — all  gave  him  a  hideous  and  unnatural  ap- 
pearance, of  which  no  description  could  convey  an 
adequate  idea,  and  which,  to  this  day,  I  shudder  to  think 
of.    His  voice  was  hollow  and  tremulous,  as  he  took  me 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


39 


aside,  and  in  broken  words  recounted  a  long  catalogue 
of  sickness  and  privations,  terminating,  as  usual,  with 
an  urgent  request  for  the  loan  of  a  trifling  sum  of  money. 
I  put  a  few  shillings  in  his  hand,  and,  as  I  turned  away, 
I  heard  the  roar  of  laughter  which  followed  his  first 
tumble  on  to  the  stage. 

A  few  nights  afterwards,  a  boy  put  a  dirty  scrap  of 
paper  in  my  hand,  on  which  were  scrawled  a  few  words 
in  pencil,  intimating  that  the  man  was  dangerously  ill, 
and  begging  me,  after  the  performance,  to  see  him  at 
his  lodgings  in  some  street — I  forget  the  name  of  it  now 
— at  no  great  distance  from  the  theatre.  I  promised  to 
comply  as  soon  as  I  could  get  away;  and,  after  the  cur- 
tain fell,  sallied  forth  on  my  melancholy  errand. 

It  was  late,  for  I  had  been  playing  in  the  last  piece; 
and,  as  it  was  a  benefit  night,  the  performances  had 
been  protracted  to  an  unusual  length.  It  was  a  dark, 
cold  night,  with  a  chill,  damp  wind,  which  blew  the  rain 
heavily  against  the  windows  and  house-fronts.  Pools  of 
water  had  collected  in  the  narrow  and  little  frequented 
streets,  and  as  many  of  the  thinly -scattered  oil-lamps  had 
been  blown  out  by  the  violence  of  the  wind,  the  walk 
was  not  only  a  comfortless,  but  most  uncertain  one.  I 
had  fortunately  taken  the  right  course,  however,  and 
succeeded,  after  a  little  difficulty,  in  finding  the  house 
to  w^hich  I  had  been  directed — a  coal  shed,  with  one  story 
above  it,  in  the  back  room  of  which  lay  the  object  of  my 
search. 

A  wretched-looking  woman,  the  man's  wife,  met  me 
on  the  stairs,  and,  telling  me  that  he  had  just  fallen  into 
a  kind  of  doze,  led  me  softly  in,  and  placed  a  chair  for 
me  at  the  bedside.  The  sick  man  was  lying  with  his 
face  turned  towards  the  wall;  and  as  he  took  no  heed  oi 
my  presence,  I  had  leisure  to  observe  the  place  in  which 
i  found  myself. 

'^He  was  lying  on  an  old  bedstead,  which  turned  up 
during  the  day.  The  tattered  remains  of  a  checked  cur- 
tain were  drawn  round  the  bed's  head,  to  exclude  the 
wind,  which,  however,  made  its  way  into  the  comfort- 
less room  through  the  numerous  chinks  in  the  door, 
and  blew  it  to  and  fro  every  instant.  There  was  a  low 
cinder  fire  in  a  rusty  unfixed  grate;  and  an  old  three- 
cornered  stained  table,  with  some  medicine-bottles,  a 
broken  glass,  and  a  few  other  domestic  articles,  waa 


40  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

drawn  out  before  it.  A  little  child  was  sleeping  on  a 
temporary  bed  which  had  been  made  for  it  on  the  floor, 
and  the  woman  sat  on  a  chair  by  its  side.  There  were 
a  couple  of  shelves,  with  a  few  plates  and  cups  and 
saucers;  and  a  pair  of  stage  shoes  and  a  couple  of  foils 
hung  beneath  them.  With  the  exception  of  little  heaps 
of  rags  and  bundles  which  had  been  carelessly  thrown 
into  the  corners  of  the  room,  these  were  the  only  things 
in  the  apartment. 

"  I  had  had  time  to  note  these  little  particulars,  and  to 
mark  the  heavy  breathing  and  feverish  startings  of  the 
sick  man,  before  he  was  aware  of  my  presence.  In  his 
restless  attempts  to  procure  some  easy  resting-place  for 
his  head,  he  tossed  his  hand  out  of  the  bed,  and  it  fell  on 
mine.    He  started  up,  and  stared  eagerly  in  my  face. 

'''Mr.  Hutley,  John,'  said  his  wife;  'Mr.  Hutley, 
that  you  sent  for  to-night,  you  know.' 

"  'Ah!'  said  the  invalid,  passing  his  hand  across  his 
forehead;  'Hutley — Hutley — let  me  see.'  He  seemed 
endeavouring  to  collect  his  thoughts  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  then  grasping  me  tightly  by  the  wrist,  said,  '  Don't 
leave  me — don't  leave  me,  old  fellow.  She'll  murder  me; 
I  know  she  will.' 

"  '  Has  he  been  long  so?'  said  I,  addressing  his  weep- 
ing wife. 

"  '  Since  yesterday  night,'  she  replied.  '  John,  John, 
don't  you  know  me?' 

"  'Don't  let  her  come  near  me,'  said  the  man,  with  a 
shudder,  as  she  stooped  over  him.  '  Drive  her.  away;  I 
can't  bear  her  near  me.'  He  stared  wildly  at  her  with  a 
look  of  deadly  apprehension,  and  then  whispered  in  my 
ear,  '  I  beat  her,  Jem;  I  beat  Iiev  yesterday,  and  many 
times  before.  I  have  starved  her,  and  the  boy  too;  and , 
now  I  am  weak  and  helpless,  Jem,  she'll  murder  me  foi  ^ 
it;  I  know  she  will.  If  you'd  seen  her  cry,  as  I  have, 
you'd  know  it  too.  Keep  her  off.'  He  relaxed  his  grasp, 
and  sunk  back  exhausted  on  the  pillow. 

"  I  knew  but  too  well  what  this  all  meant.  If  I  could 
have  entertained  any  doubt  of  it,  for  an  instant,  one 
glance  at  the  woman's  pale  face  and  wasted  form  would 
have  sufficiently  explained  the  real  state  of  the  case. 
'You  had  better  stand  aside,'  said  I  to  the  poor  creature. 
'  You  can  do  him  no  good.  Perhaps  he  will  be  calmer, 
if  he  does  not  see  you.'    She  retired  out  of  the  man'^ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


41 


sight.  He  opened  his  eyes,  after  a  few  seconds,  and 
looked  anxiously  round. 

"  ^  Is  she  gone?'  he  eagerly  inquired. 
'  Yes — yes/  said  I;  '  she  shall  not  hurt  you.' 

"  'I'll  tell  you  what,  Jem/  said  the  man,  in  a  low 
voice,  '  she  does  hurt  me.  There's  something  in  her  eyes 
wakes  such  a  dreadful  fear  in  my  heart,  that  it  drives 
me  mad.  All  last  night,  her  large  staring  eyes  and  pale 
face  were  close  to  mine;  wherever  I  turned,  they  turned; 
and  whenever  I  started  up  from  my  sleep,  she  was  at  the 
bedside  looking  at  me.'  He  drew  me  closer  to  him,  as 
he  said  in  a  deep,  alarmed  whisper — 'Jem,  she  must  be 
an  evil  spirit — a  devil!  Hush!  I  know  she  is.  If  she 
had  been  a  woman,  she  would  have  died  long  ago.  No 
woman  could  have  borne  what  she  has.' 

''I  sickened  at  the  thought  of  the  long  course  of 
cruelty  and  neglect  which  must  have  occurred  to  produce 
such  an  impression  on  such  a  man.  I  could  say  nothing 
in  reply;  for  who  could  offer  hope,  or  consolation,  to  the 
abject  being  before  me? 

"1  sat  there  for  upwards  of  two  hours,  during  which 
time  he  tossed  about,  murmuring  exclamations  of  pain 
or  impatience,  restlessly  throwing  his  arms  here  and 
there,  and  turning  constantly  from  side  to  side.  At 
length  he  fell  into  that  state  of  partial  unconsciousness, 
in  which  the  mind  wanders  uneasily  from  scene  to 
scene,  and  from  place  to  place,  without  the  control  of 
reason,  but  still  without  being  able  to  divest  itself  of  an 
indescribable  sense  of  present  suffering.  Finding  from 
his  incoherent  wanderings  that  this  was  the  case,  and 
knowing  that  in  all  probability  the  fever  would  not 
grow  immediately  worse,  I  left  him,  promising  his  miser- 
able wife  that  I  would  repeat  my  visit  next  evening, 
and,  if  necessary,  sit  up  with  the  patient  during  the 
night. 

^'I  kept  my  promise.  The  last  four-and-twenty  hours 
had  produced  a  frightful  alteration.  The  eyes,  though 
deeply  sunk  and  heavy,  shone  with  a  lustre  frightful 
to  behold.  The  lips  were  parched,  and  cracked  in  many 
places:  the  dry  hard  skin  glowed  with  a  burning  heat, 
and  there  was  an  almost  unearthly  air  of  wild  anxiety 
in  the  man's  face,  indicating  even  more  strongly  the 
ravages  of  the  disease.  The  fever  was  at  its  height. 
I  took  the  seat  I  had  occupied  the  night  before,  and 


42 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


there  I  sat  for  hours,  listening  to  sounds  which  must 
strike  deep  to  the  heart  of  the  most  callous  among  human 
beings — the  awful  ravings  of  a  dying  man.  From  what 
1  had  heard  of  the  medical  attendant's  opinion,  I  knew 
there  was  no  hope  for  him:  I  was  sitting  by  his  death- 
bed* I  saw  the  wasted  limbs,  which  a  few  hours  before 
had  been  distorted  for  the  amusement  of  a  boisterous 
gallery,  writhing  under  the  tortures  of  a  burning  fever 
— I  heard  the  clown's  shrill  laugh,  blending  with  the 
low  murmurings  of  the  dying  man. 

''It  is  a  touching  thing  to  hear  the  mind  reverting 
to  the  ordinary  occupations  and  pursuits  of  health, 
when  the  body  lies  before  you  weak  and  helpless;  but 
when  those  occupations  are  of  a  character  the  most 
strongly  opposed  to  anything  we  associate  with  grave 
or  solemn  ideas,  the  impression  produced  is  infinitely 
more  powerful.  The  theatre,  and  the  public-house,  were 
the  chief  themes  of  the  wretched  man's  wanderings.  It 
was  evening,  he  fancied;  he  had  a  part  to  play  that 
night;  it  was  late,  and  he  must  leave  home  instantly. 
Wiiy  did  they  hold  him,  and  prevent  his  going — he 
should  lose  the  money — he  must  go.  No!  they  would 
not  let  him.  He  hid  Jiis  face  in  his  burning  hands,  and 
feebly  bemoaned  his  own  weakness,  and  the  cruelty  of 
his  persecutors.  A  short  pause,  and  he  shouted  out  a 
few  doggerel  rhymes — the  last  he  had  ever  learnt.  He 
rose  in  bed,  drew  up  his  withered  limbs,  and  rolled 
about  in  uncouth  positions;  he  was  acting — he  was  at 
the  theatre.  A  minute's  silence,  and  he  murmured  the 
burden  of  some  roaring  song.  He  had  reached  the  old 
house  at  last;  how  hot  the  room  was.  He  had  been  ill, 
very  ill,  but  he  was  well  now,  and  happy.  Fill  up  his 
glass.  Who  was  that,  that  dashed  it  from  his  lips?  It 
was  the  same  persecutor  that  had  followed  him  before. 
He  fell  back  upon  his  pillow,  and  moaned  aloud.  A  short 
period  of  oblivion,  and  he  was  wandering  through  a 
tedious  maze  of  low  arched  rooms — so  low,  sometimes, 
that  he  must  creep  upon  his  hands  and  knees  to  make 
his  way  along;  it  was  close  and  dark,  and  every  way  he 
turned,  some  obstacle  impeded  his  progress.  There  were 
insects  too,  hideous  crawling  things,  with  eyes  that 
stared  upon  him,  and  filled  the  very  air  around :  glistening 
horribly  amidst  the  thick  darkness  of  the  place.  The 
walls  and  ceiling  were  alive  with  reptiles — the  vault 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


43 


expanded  to  an  enormous  size — frightful  figures  flitted 
to  and  fro — and  the  faces  of  men  he  knew,  rendered  hid- 
eous by  gibing  and  mouthing,  peered  out  from  among 
them;  they  were  searing  him  with  heated  irons,  and 
binding  his  head  with  cords  till  the  blood  started;  and 
he  struggled  madly  for  life. 

At  the  close  of  one  of  these  paroxysms,  when  I  had 
with  great  difficulty  held  him  down  in  his  bed,  he  sank 
into  what  appeared  to  be  a  slumber.  Overpowered  with 
watching  and  exertion,  I  had  closed  my  eyes  for  a  few 
minutes,  when  I  felt  a  violent  clutch  on  my  shoulder. 
I  awoke  instantly.  He  had  raised  himself  up,  so  as  to 
seat  himself  in  bed — a  dreadful  change  had  come  over 
his  face,  but  consciousness  had  returned,  for  he  evidently 
knew  me.  The  child,  who  had  been  long  since  disturbed 
by  his  ravings,  rose  from  its  little  bed,  and  ran  towards 
icS  father,  screaming  with  fright — the  mother  hastily 
caught  it  in  her  arms,  lest  he  should  injure  it  in  the 
violence  of  his  insanity;  but,  terrified  by  the  alteration 
of  his  features,  stood  transfixed  by  the  bedside.  He 
grasped  my  shoulder  convulsively,  and,  striking  his 
breast  with  the  other  hand,  made  a  desperate  attempt  to 
articulate.  It  was  unavailing — he  extended  his  arm 
towards  them,  and  made  another  violent  effort.  There 
was  a  rattling  noise  in  the  throat — a  glare  of  the  eye — 
a  short,  stifled  groan — and  he  fell  back — dead  ! " 


It  would  afford  us  the  highest  gratiflcation  to  bo 
enabled  to  record  Mr.  Pickwick's  opinion  of  the  fore- 
going anecdote.  We  have  little  doubt  that  we  should 
have  been  enabled  to  present  it  to  our  readers,  but  for  a 
most  unfortunate  occurrence. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  replaced  on  the  table  the  glass 
which,  during  the  last  few  sentences  of  the  tale,  he  had 
retained  in  his  hand;  and  had  just  made  up  his  mind  to 
speak — indeed,  we  have  the  authority  of  Mr.  Snodgrass's 
note-book  for  stating  that  he  had  actually  opened  his 
mouth — when  the  waiter  entered  the  room,  and  said: 

'^Some  gentlemen,  sir." 

It  has  been  conjectured  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the 
point  of  delivering  some  remarks  which  would  have  en- 
lightened the  v/orid,  ii  not  the  Thames,  when  he  was 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


thus  interrupted:  for  he  gazed  sternly  on  the  waiter's 
countenance,  and  then  looked  round  on  the  company 
generally,  as  if  seeking  for  information  relative  to  the 
new  comers. 

''Oh!"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rising,  ''some  friends  of 
mine — show  them  in.  Very  pleasant  fellows,"  ad(]e  i 
Mr.  Winkle,  after  the  waiter  had  retired — ''officers  of 
the  Ninety -seventh,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  rather 
oddly  this  morning.    You  will  like  them  very  much." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  equanimity  was  at  once  restored.  The 
waiter  returned,  and  ushered  three  gentlemen  into  the 
room. 

"Lieutenant  Tappleton,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "Lieuten- 
ant Tappleton,  Mr.  Pickwick — Doctor  Payne,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick— Mr.  Snodgrass,  you  have  seen  before:  my  friend 
Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Payne — Doctor  Slammer,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick— Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Slam — " 

Here  Mr.  Winkle  suddenly  paused;  for  strong  emotion 
was  visible  on  the  countenance  both  of  Mr.  Tupman  and 
the  doctor. 

^'  I  have  met  this  gentleman  before,"  said  the  doctor, 
with  marked  emphasis. 

"  Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  And — and  that  person,  too,  if  I  am  not  mistaken," 
said  the  doctor,  bestowing  a  scrutinizing  glance  on  the 
green-coated  stranger.  "I  think  I  gave  that  person  a 
very  pressing  .invitation  last  night,  which  he  thought 
proper  to  decline."  Saying  which,  the  doctor  scow^  led 
magnanimously  on  the  stranger,  and  whispered  his 
friend  Lieutenant  Tappleton. 

"You  don't  say  so,"  said  that  gentleman,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  whisper. 

"I  do,  indeed,"  replied  Doctor  Slammer.  * 

"You  are  bound  to  kick  him  on  the  spot,"  murmured 
the  owner  of  the  camp-stool,  with  great  importance. 

"Do  be  quiet,  Payne,"  interposed  the  Lieutenant. 
]' Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  sir,"  he  said,  address- 
ing Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  considerably  mystified  by 
this  very  unpolite  by-play — "  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask 
you,  sir,  whether  that  person  belongs  to  your  party?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "he  is  a  guest  of 
ours." 

"He  is  a  member  of  your  club,  or  I.  am  mistaken?" 
said  the  Lieutenant,  inquiringly. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


46 


Certainly  not/'  responded  Mr,  Pickwick.  # 
''And  never  wears  your  club-button?"  said  the  Lieu- 
tenant. 

''ISro — never!"  replied  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Lieutenant  Tappleton  turned  around  to  his  friend 
Doctor  Slammer,  with  a  scarcely  perceptible  shrug  of 
the  shoulder,  as  if  implying  some  doubt  of  the  accuracy 
of  his  recollection.  The  little  doctor  looked  wrathful, 
but  confounded;  and  Mr.  Payne  gazed  with  a  ferocious 
aspect  on  the  beaming  countenance  of  the  unconscious 
Pickwick. 

''Sir,"  said  the  doctor,  suddenly  addressing  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  in  a  tone  which  made  that  gentleman  start  as  per- 
ceptibly as  if  a  pin  had  been  cunningly  inserted  into  the 
calf  of  his  leg — "you  were  at  the  ball  here  last 
night?" 

Mr.  Tupman  gasped  a  faint  affirmative;  looking  very 
hard  at  Mr.  Pickwick  all  the  while. 

"That  person  was  your  companion,"  said  the  doctor, 
pointing  to  the  still  unmoved  stranger. 

Mr.  Tupman  admitted  the  fact. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  doctor  to  the  stranger,  "I  ask 
you  once  again,  in  the  presence  of  these  gentlemen, 
whether  you  choose  to  give  me  your  card,  and  to  receive 
the  treatment  of  a  gentleman;  or  whether  you  impose 
upon  me  the  necessity  of  personally  chastising  you  on 
the  spot?" 

"  Stay,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  really  cannot  allow 
this  matter  to  go  any  further  without  some  explanation. 
Tupman,  recount  the  circumstances." 

Mr.  Tupman,  thus  solemnly  adjured,  stated  the  case 
iii  a  few  words;  touched  slightly  on  the  borrowing  of  the 
coat;  expatiated  largely  on  its  having  been  done  "after 
dinner;"  wound  up  with  a  little  penitence  on  his  own 
account;  and  left  tne  stranger  to  clear  himself  as  he  best 
could. 

He  was  apparently  about  to  proceed  to  do  so,  when 
Lieutenant  Tappleton,  who  had  been  eyeing  him  with 
great  curiosity,  said,  with  considerable  scorn,  "  Havn't 
1  seen  you  at  the  theatre,  sir?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  unabashed  stranger. 

"He  is  a  strolling  actor,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  con- 
temptuously, turning  to  Dr.  Slammer;  "he  acts  in  the 
piece  that  the  officers  of  the  Fifty-second  get  up  at  the 


46  POSTHUMOUS  PAPEK^  OF 

Rochester  theatre  to-morrow  night.    You  cannot  pro- 
ceed in  this  affair,  Slammer— impossible!" 
Quite!"  said  the  dignified  Payne. 
Sorry  to  have  placed  you  in  this  disagreeable  situa- 
tion," said  Lieutenant  Tappleton,  addressing  Mr.  Pick- 
wick;   allow  me  to  suggest  that  the  best  way  of  avoid- 
j  .ng  a  recurrence  of  such  scenes  in  the  future,  will  be 
I  no  be  more  select  in  the  choice  of  your  companions. 
Good  evening,  sir!"  and  the  Lieutenant  bounced  out  of 
the  room. 

''And  allow  me  to  say,  sir,"  said  the  irascible  Doctor 
Payne,  ''that  if  I  had  been  Tappleton,  or  if  I  had  been 
Slammer,  I  would  have  pulled  your  nose,  sir,  and  the 
nose  of  every  man  in  this  company.  I  would,  sir — 
every  man.  Payne  is  my  name,  sir — Doctor  Payne,  of 
the  Forty-third.  Good  evening,  sir."  Having  con- 
cluded this  speech,  and  uttered  the  three  last  words  in  a 
loud  key,  he  stalked  majestically  after  his  friend,  closely 
followed  by  Doctor  Slammer,  who  said  nothing,  but 
contented  himself  by  withering  the  company  with  a 
look. 

Rising  rage  and  extreme  bewilderment  had  swelled 
the  noble  breast  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost  to  the  bursting 
of  his  waistcoat,  during  the  delivery  of  the  above 
defiance.  He  stood  transfixed  to  the  spot,  gazing  on 
vacancy.  The  closing  of  the  door  recalled  him  to  him- 
self. He  rushed  forward  with  fury  in  his  looks,  and 
fire  in  his  eye.  His  hand  was  upon  the  lock  of  the  door; 
in  another  instant  it  would  have  been  on  the  throat  of 
Doctor  Payne  of  the  Forty-third,  had  not  Mr.  Snodgrass 
seized  his  revered  leader  by  the  coat  tail,  and  dragged 
him  backwards. 

f  "  Restrain  him,"  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  "  Winkle,  Tup- 
man — he  must  not  peril  his  distinguished  life  in  such  a 
cause  as  this." 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Hold  him  tight,"  shouted  Mr.  Snodgrass;  and  by  the 
united  efforts  of  the  whole  company,  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
forced  into  an  arm-chair. 

"Leave  him  alone,"  said  the  green-coated  stranger — 
"brandy  and  water — jolly  old  gentleman — lots  of  pluck 
— swallow  this — ah!  capital  stuff."  Having  previously 
tested  the  virtues  of  a  bumper,  which  had  been  mixed 
by  "^e  dismal  man,  the  stranger  applied  the  glass  to  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


Pickwick's  mouth;  and  the  remainder  of  its  contents 
rapidly  disappeared. 

There  was  a  short  pause;  the  brandy  and  water  had 
done  its  work;  the  amiable  countenance  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  fast  recovering  its  customary  expression. 

''They  are  not  worth  your  notice/'  said  the  dismal 
man. 

''You  are  right,  sir/'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^^they 
are  not.  I  am  ashamed  to  have  been  betrayed 
into  this  warmth  of  feeling.  Draw  your  chair  up  to  the 
table,  sir." 

The  dismal  man  readily  complied:  a  circle  was  again 
formed  round  the  table,  and  harmony  once  more  pre- 
vailed. Some  lingering  irritability  appeared  to  find  a 
resting-place  in  Mr.  Winkle's  bosom,  occasioned  pos- 
sibly by  the  temporary  abstraction  of  his  coat — though 
it  is  scarcely  reasonable  to  suppose  that  so  slight  a  cir- 
cumstance can  have  excited  even  a  passing  feeling  of 
anger  in  a  Pickwickian  breast.  With  this  exception, 
their  good  humour  was  completely  restored;  and  the 
evening  concluded  with  the  conviviality  with  which  it 
had  begun. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  FIELD-DAY   AND  BIVOUAC— MORE   NEW   FRIENDS;  AND 
AN  INVITATION  TO  THE  COUNTRY. 

Many  authors  entertain,  not  only  a  foolish,  but  a 
really  dishonest,  objection  to  acknowledge  the  sources 
from  whence  they  derive  much  valuable  information. 
We  have  no  such  feeling.  We  are  merely  endeavouring 
to  discharge  in  an  upright  manner,  the  responsible 
duties  of  our  editorial  functions;  and  whatever  ambition 
we  might  have  felt  under  other  circumstances,  to  lay 
claim  to  the  authorship  of  these  adventures,  a  regard 
for  truth  forbids  us  to  do  more  than  claim  the  merit  of 
their  judicious  arrangement,  and  impartial  narration. 
The  Pickwick  papers  are  our  New  River  Head;  and  we 
may  be  compared  to  the  New  River  Company.  The  la- 
bours of  others  have  raised  for  us  an  immense  reservoir 
of  important  facts.    We  merely  lay  them  on,  and  com- 


48  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

municate  them,  in  a  clear  and  gentle  stream,  through 
the  medium  of  these  numbers,  to  a  world  thirsting  for 
Pickwickian  knowledge. 

Acting  in  this  spirit,  and  resolutely  proceeding  on  our 
determination  to  avow  our  obligations  to  the  authorities 
we  have  consulted,  we  frankly  say  that  to  the  note-book 
of  Mr.  Snodgrass  are  we  indebted  for  the  particulars  re- 
corded in  this,  and  the  succeeding  chapter — particulars 
which,  now  that  we  have  disburdened  our  conscience, 
we  shall  proceed  to  detail  without  further  comment. 

The  whole  population  of  Rochester  and  the  adjoining 
towns  rose  from  their  beds  at  an  early  hour  of  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  bustle  and 
excitement.  A  grand  review  was  to  take  place  upon  the 
Lines.  The  manoeuvres  of  half-a-dozen  regiments  were 
to  be  inspected  by  the  eagle  eye  of  the  commander-in- 
chief;  temporary  fortifications  had  been  erected,  the 
citadel  was  to  be  attacked  and  taken,  and  a  mine  was 
to  be  sprung. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was,  as  our  readers  may  have  gathered 
from  the  slight  extract  we  gave  from  his  description  of 
Chatham,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  army.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  delightful  to  him — nothing  could 
have  harmonized  so  well  with  the  peculiar  feeling  of 
each  of  his  companions — as  this  sight.  Accordingly 
they  were  soon  a-foot,  and  walking  in  the  direction  of 
the  scene  of  action,  towards  which  crowds  of  people 
were  already  pouring,  from  a  variety  of  quarters. 

The  appearance  of  everything  on  the  Lines  denoted 
that  the  approaching  ceremony  was  one  of  the  utmost 
grandeur  and  importance.  There  were  sentries  posted 
to  keep  the  ground  for  the  troops,  and  servants  on  the 
batteries  keeping  places  for  the  ladies,  and  sergeants 
running  to  and  fro,  with  vellum-covered  books  under 
tlieir  arms,  and  Colonel  Bulder,  in  full  military  uniform, 
on  horseback,  galloping  first  to  one  place  and  then  to 
another,  and  backing  his  horse  among  the  people,  and 
prancing,  and  curvetting,  and  shouting  in  a  most  alarm- 
ing manner,  and  marking  himself  very  hoarse  in  the 
voice,  and  very  red  in  the  face,  without  any  assignable 
cause  or  reason  whatever.  Officers  were  running  back- 
wards and  forwards,  first  communicating  with  Colonel 
Bulder,  and  then  ordering  the  sergeants,  and  then  run- 
ning away  altogether:  and  even  the  very  privates  them- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


49 


selves  looked  from  behind  their  glazed  stocks  with  an 
air  of  mysterious  solemnity,  whicn  suflSciently  bespoke 
the  special  nature  of  the  occasion. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  companions  stationed 
themselves  in  the  front  rank  of  the  crowd,  and  patiently 
awaited  the  commencement  of  the  proceedings.  The 
throng  was  increasing  every  moment;  and  the  efforts 
they  were  compelled  to  make,  to  retain  the  position  they 
had  gained,  sufficiently  occupied  their  attention  during 
the  two  hours  that  ensued.  At  one  time  there  was  a 
sudden  pressure  from  behind;  and  then  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  jerked  forward  for  several  yards,  with  a  degree  of 
speed  and  elasticity  highly  inconsistent  with  the  general 
gravity  of  his  demeanour;  at  another  moment  there  was 
a  request  to  ''keep  back"  from  the  front,  and  then  the 
butt  end  of  a  musket  was  either  dropped  upon  Mr. 
Pickwick's  toe,  to  remind  him  of  the  demand,  or  thrust 
into  his  chest  to  ensure  its  being  complied  with.  Then 
some  facetious  gentlemen  on  the  left,  after  pressing 
sideways  in  a  body,  and  squeezing  Mr.  Snodgrass  into 
the  very  last  extreme  of  human  torture,  would  request 
to  know  ''vere  he  vos  a  shovin'  to,"  and  when  Mr. 
Winkle  had  done  expressing  his  excessive  indignation 
at  witnessing  this  unprovoked  assault,  some  person 
behind  would  knock  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  beg  the 
favour  of  his  putting  his  head  in  his  pocket.  These,  and 
other  practical  witticisms,  coupled  with  the  unaccount- 
able absence  of  Mr.  Tupman  (who  had  suddenly  disap- 
peared, and  was  nowhere  to  be  found),  rendered  their 
situation,  on  the  whole,  rather  more  uncomfortable  than 
pleasing  or  desirable. 

At  length  the '  low  roar  of  many  voices  ran  through 
the  crowd,  which  usually  announces  the  arrival  of  what- 
ever they  have  been  waiting  for.  All  eyes  were  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  sally-port.  A  few  moments  of 
eager  expectation,  and  colors  were  seen  fluttering  gaily 
in  the  air,  arms  glistened  brightly  in  the  sun:  column 
after  column  poured  on  to  the  plain.  The  troops  halted 
and  formed;  the  word  of  command  rung  through  the 
line,  there  was  a  general  clash  of  muskets,  as  arms  were 
presented;  and  the  commander-in-chief,  attended  by 
Colonel  Bulder  and  numerous  officers,  cantered  to  the 
front.  The  military  bands  struck  up  all  together:  the 
horses  stood  upon  two  legs  each,  cantered  backwards, 


50  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

and  whisked  their  tails  about  in  all  directions:  the  dogs 
barked,  the  mob  screamed,  the  troops  recovered,  and 
nothing  was  to  be  seen  on  either  side,  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  but  a  long  perspective  of  red  coats  and 
white  trowsers,  fixed  and  motionless. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  so  fully  occupied  in  falling 
about,  and  disentangling  himself,  miraculously,  from 
between  the  legs  of  horses,  that  he  had  not  enjoyed  suf- 
ficient leisure  to  observe  the  scene  before  him,  until  it 
assumed  the  appearance  we  have  just  described.  When 
he  was  at  last  enabled  to  stand  firmly  on  his  legs,  his 
gratification  and  delight  were  unbounded. 

Can  anything  be  finer,  or  more  delightful?"  he  in- 
quired of  Mr.  Winkle. 

''Nothing,"  replied  that  gentleman,  who  had  had  a 
short  man  standing  on  each  of  his  feet  for  the  quarter  of 
an  hour  immediately  preceding. 

''It  is  indeed  a  noble  and  a  brilliant  sight,"  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  in  whose  bosom  a  blaze  of  poetry  was  rapidly 
bursting  forth,  "to  see  the  gallant  defenders  of  their 
country,  drawn  up  in  brilliant  array  before  its  peaceful 
citizens:  their  faces  beamii:ig — not  with  warlike  ferocity, 
but  with  civilized  gentleness:  their  eyes  fiashing — not 
with  the  rude  fire  of  rapine  or  revenge,  but  with  the 
soft  light  of  humanity  and  intelligence." 

Mr.  Pickwick  fully  entered  into  the  spirit  of  this  eulo- 
gium,  but  he  could  not  exactly  re-echo  its  terms;  for  the 
soft  light  of  intelligence  burnt  rather  feebly  in  the  eyes 
of  the  warriors,  inasmuch  as  the  command  "  eyes  front" 
had  been  given;  and  all  the  spectator  saw  before  him 
was  several  thousand  pair  of  optics,  staring  straight  for- 
ward, wholly  divested  of  any  expression  whatever. 

"We  are  in  a  capital  situation  now,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, looking  round  him.  The  crowd  had  gradually 
dispersed  from  their  immediate  vicinity,  and  they  were 
nearly  alone. 

"  Capital!"  echoed  both  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  What  are  they  doing  now?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
adjusting  his  spectacles. 

"I— I — rather  think,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  changing 
colour,  "  I  rather  think  they're  going  to  fire." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

"I — I — really  think  they  are,"  urged  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
somewhat  alarmed. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


51 


''Impossible/'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  had  hardly 
uttered  the  word,  when  the  whole  half-dozen  regiments 
levelled  their  muskets  as  if  they  had  but  one  common 
object,  and  that  object  the  Pickwickians:  and  burst 
forth  with  the  most  awful  and  tremendous  discharge  that 
ever  shook  the  earth  to  its  centre,  or  an  elderly  gentle- 
iiian  off  his. 

It  was  in  this  trying  situation,  exposed  to  a  galling 
fire  of  blank  cartridges,  and  harassed  by  the  operations 
of  the  military,  a  fresh  body  of  whom  had  begun  to  fall 
in,  on  the  opposite  side,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  displayed 
that  perfect  coolness  and  self-possession  which  are  the 
indispensable  accompaniments  of  a  great  mind.  He 
seized  Mr.  Winkle  by  the  arm,  and  placing  himself  be- 
tween that  gentleman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  earnestly  be- 
sought them  to  remember  that  beyond  the  possibility  of 
being  rendered  deaf  by  the  noise,  there  was  no  imme- 
diate danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the  firing. 

''But — but — suppose  some  of  them  should  happen  to 
have  ball  cartridges  by  mistake,"  remonstrated  Mr. 
Winkle,  pallid  at  the  supposition  he  was  himself  conjur- 
ing up.  "I  heard  something  whistle  through  the  air 
just  now — so  sharp:  close  to  my  ear." 

"We  had  better  throw  ourselves  on  our  faces,  hadn't 
we?*'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"No,  no — it's  over  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  His  lip 
might  quiver,  a:nd  his  cheek  might  blanch,  but  no  ex- 
pression of  fear  or  concern  escaped  the  lips  of  that  im- 
mortal man. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  right:  the  firing  ceased;  but  he  had 
scarcely  time  to  congratulate  himself  on  the  accuracy 
of  his  opinion,  when  a  quick  movement  was  visible  in 
the  line:  the  hoarse  shout  of  the  word  of  command  ran 
alofig  it,  and  before  either  of  the  party  could  form  a 
guess  at  the  meaning  of  this  new  manoeuvre,  the  whole 
of  the  half-dozen  regiments,  with  fixed  bayonets,  charged 
at  double-quick  time  down  upon  the  very  spot  on  which 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  were  stationed. 

Man  is  but  mortal;  and  there  is  a  point  beyond  which 
human  courage  cannot  extend.  Mr.  Pickwick  gazed 
through  his  spectacles  for  an  instant  on  the  advancing 
mass;  and  then  fairly  turned  his  back  and — we  will  not 
say  fled;  firstly,  because  it  is  an  ignoble  term,  and  sec- 
ondly, because  Mr.  Pickwick's  figure  was  by  no  means 


62 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


adapted  for  that  mode  of  retreat — he  trotted  away,  at  as 
quick  a  rate  as  his  legs  would  convey  him;  so  quickly, 
indeed,  that  he  did  not  perceive  the  awkwardness  of  his 
situation,  to  the  full  extent,  until  too  late. 

The  opposite  troops,  whose  falling-in  had  perplexed 
Mr.  Pickwick  a  few  seconds  before,  were  drawn  up  to 
repel  the  mimic  attack  of  the  sham  besiegers  of  the 
citadel;  and  the  consequence  was,  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  two  companions  found  themselves  suddenly  in- 
closed between  two  lines  of  great  length;  the  one  ad- 
vancing at  a  rapid  pace,  and  the  other  firmly  waiting 
the  collision  in  hostile  array. 

"  Hoi!''  shouted  the  officers  of  the  advancing  line — 
Get  out  of  the  way,"  cried  the  officers  of  the  station- 
ary one. 

"  Where  are  we  to  go?"  screamed  the  agitated  Pick- 
wickians. 

'"  Hoi — hoi — hoi,"  was  the  only  reply.  There  was  a 
moment  of  intense  bewilderment,  a  heavy  tramp  of  foot- 
steps, a  violent  concussion;  a  smothered  laugh — the  half- 
dozen  regiments  were  half  a  thousand  yards  off;  and  the 
soles  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  boots  were  elevated  in  the  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  had  each  performed  a 
compulsory  somersault  with  remarkable  agility,  when 
the  lirst  object  that  met  the  eyes  of  the  latter  as  he  sat  on 
the  ground,  staunching  with  a  yellow  silk  handkerchief 
the  stream  of  life  which  issuea  from  hi*s  nose,  was  his 
venerated  leader  at  some  distance  off,  running  after  his 
own  hat,  which  was  gambolling  playfully  away  in  per- 
spective. 

There  are  very  few  moments  in  a  man's  existence, 
when  he  experiences  so  much  ludicrous  distress,  or  meets 
with  so  little  charitable  commiseration,  as  when  he  is 
in  pursuit  of  his  own  hat.  A  vast  deal  of  coolness,  and 
a  peculiar  degree  of  judgment,  are  requisite  in  catching 
a  hat.  A  man  must  not  be  precipitate,  or  he  runs  over 
it;  he  must  not  rush  into  tne  opposite  extreme,  or  he 
loses  it  altogether.  The  best  way  is,  to  keep  gently  up 
with  the  object  of  pursuit,  to  be  wary  and  cautious,  to 
watch  your  opportunity  well,  get  gradually  before  it, 
then  make  a  rapid  dive,  seize  it  by  the  crown,  and  stick 
it  firnily  on  your  head:  smiling  pleasantly  all  the  time, 
as  if  you  thought  it  as  good  a  joke  as  anybody  else. 

There  was  a  fine  gentle  wind,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  hat 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


53 


rolled  sportively  before  it.  The  wind  puffed,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  puffed,  and  the  hat  rolled  over  and  over  as 
merrily  as  a  lively  porpoise  in  a  strong  tide;  and  on  it 
might  have  rolled,  far  beyond  Mr.  Pickwick's  reach,  had 
not  its  course  been  providentially  stopped,  just  as  that 
gentleman  was  on  the  point  of  resigning  it  to  its  fate. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  we  say,  was  completely  exhausted,  and 
about  to  give  up  the  chase,  when  the  hat  was  blown 
with  some  violence  against  the  wheel  of  a  carriage, 
which  was  drawn  up  in  a  line  with  half-a-dozen  other 
vehicles,  on  the  spot  to  which  his  steps  had  been  directed. 
Mr.  Pickwick,  perceiving  his  advantage,  darted  briskly 
forward,  secured  his  property,  planted  it  on  his  head, 
and  paused  to  take  breath.  He  had  not  been  stationarj^ 
half  a  minute,  when  he  heard  his  own  name  eagerly 
pronounced  by  a  voice,  which  he  at  once  recognized  as 
Mr.  Tupman's,  and  looking  upwards,  he  beheld  a  sight 
which  filled  him  with  surprise  and  pleasure. 

In  an  open  barouche,  the  horses  of  which  had  been 
taken  out,  the  better  to  accommodate  it  to  the  crowded 
place,  stood  a  stout  old  gentleman,  in  a  blue  coat  and 
bright  buttons,  corduroy  breeches  and  top  boots,  two 
young  ladies  in  scarfs  and  feathers,  a  young  gentleman 
apparently  enamoured  of  one  of  the  young  ladies  in 
scarfs  and  feathers,  a  lady  of  doubtful  age,  probably  the 
aunt  of  the  aforesaid,  and  Mr.  Tupman,  as  easy  and 
unconcerned  as  if  he  had  belonged  to  the  family  from 
the  first  moments  of  his  infancy.  Fastened  up  behind 
the  barouche  was  a  hamper  of  spacious  dimensions — one 
of  those  hampers  which  always  awakens  in  a  contem- 
plative mind  associations  connected  with  cold  fowls, 
tongue,  and  bottles  of  wine — and  on  the  box  sat  a  fat 
and  red-faced  boy,  in  a  state  of  somnolency,  whom  no 
speculative  observer  could  have  regarded  for  an  instant 
without  setting  down  as  the  official  dispenser  of  tlie 
contents  of  the  before-mentioned  hamper,  when  the 
proper  time  for  their  consumption  should  arrive. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  bestowed  a  hasty  glance  on  these 
interesting  objects,  when  he  was  again*  greeted  by  his 
faithful  disciple. 

''Pickwick — Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Tupman;  ''come  up 
here.    Make  haste." 

"Come  along,  sir.  Pray,  come  up,"  said  the  stout 
gentleman.    "Joe! — damn  that  boy,  ne's  gone  to  sleep 


54 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


again — Joe,  let  down  the  steps."  The  fat  boy  rolled 
slowly  off  the  box,  let  down  the  steps,  and  held  the  car- 
riage door  invitingly  open.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
Winkle  came  up  at  the  moment. 

''Room  for  you  all,  gentlemen,"  said  the  stout  man. 
''Two  inside,  and  one  out.  Joe,  make  room  for  one 
of  these  gentlemen  on  the  box.  Nov/,  sir,  come  along; ' 
and  the  stout  gentleman  extended  his  arm,  and  pulled 
first  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Mr.  Snodgrass,  into  the 
barouche  by  main  force.  Mr.  Winkle  mounted  to  the 
box,  the  fat  boy  waddled  to  the  same  perch,  and  fell 
fast  asleep  instantly. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  stout  man,  "very  glad 
to  see  you.  Know  you  very  well,  gentlemen,  though 
you  mayn't  remember  me.  I  spent  some  ev'nings  at  your 
club  last  winter — picked  up  my  friend  Mr.  Tupman  here 
this  morning,  and  very  glad  I  was  to  see  him.  Vv'  ell, 
sir,  and  how  are  you?  You  do  look  uncommon  well,  to 
be  sure." 

Mr.  Pickwick  acknowledged  the  compliment,  and 
cordially  shook  hands  with  the  stout  gentleman  in  the 
top  boots. 

"Well,  and  how  are  you,  sir?"  said  the  stout  gentle- 
man, addressing  Mr.  Snodgrass  with  paternal  anxiety. 
"  Charming,  eh?  Well — that's  right.  And  how  are  you, 
sir  (to  Mr.  Winkle)  ?  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say 
you  are  well;  very  glad  I  am,  to  be  sure.  My  daughters, 
gentlemen — my  gals  these  are;  and  that's  my  sister, 
Miss  Rachel  Wardle.  She's  a  Miss,  she  is;  and  yet  she 
a.in't  a  Miss — eh,  sir — eh?"  And  the  stout  gentleman 
playfully  inserted  his  elbow  between  the  ribs  of  Mr. 
Pickwick,  and  laughed  very  heartily. 

"  Lor,  brother  ?  "  said  Miss  Wardle,  with  a  deprecating 
smile. 

"True,  true,"  said  the  stout  gentleman;  "no  one  can 
deny  it.  Gentlemen,  I  beg  your  pardon ;  this  is  my 
friend  Mr.  Trundle.  And  now  you  all  know  each  other, 
let's  be  comfortable  and  happy,  and  see  what's  going 
forward;  that's  what  I  say."  So  the  stout  gentleman 
put  on  his  spectacles,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  pulled  out  his 
glass,  and  everybody  stood  up  in  the  carriage,  and 
looked  over  somebody  else's  shoulder  at  the  evolutions 
of  the  military. 

Astounding  evolutions  they  were,  one  rank  firing  over 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


the  heads  of  another  rank,  and  then  running  away;  and 
then  the  other  rank  firing  over  the  heads  of  another 
rank,  and  running  away  in  their  turn;  and  then  forming 
squares,  with  officers  in  the  centre;  and  then  descending 
the  trench  on  one  side  with  scaling  ladders,  and  ascend- 
ing it  on  the  other  again  by  the  same  means;  and  knock- 
ing down  barricades  of  baskets,  and  behaving  in  the 
most  gallant  manner  possible.  Then  there  was  such  a 
ramming  down  of  the  contents  of  enormous  guns  on  the 
battery,  with  instruments  like  magnified  mops;  such  a 
preparation  before  they  were  let  off,  and  such  an  awful 
noise  when  they  did  go,  that  the  air  resounded  with  the 
screams  of  ladies.  The  young  Misses  Wardle  were  so 
frightened,  that  Mr.  Trundle  was  actually  obliged  to 
hold  one  of  them  up  in  the  carriage,  while  Mr.  Snodgrass 
supported  the  other,  and  Mr.  Wardle's  sister  suffered 
under  such  a  dreadful  state  of  nervous  alarm,  that  Mr. 
Tupman  found  it  indispensably  necessary  to  put  his 
arm  round  her  w^ist  to  keep  her  up  at  all.  Every- 
body was  excited,  except  the  fat  boy,  and  he  slept  as 
soundly  as  if  the  roaring  of  cannon  were  his  ordinary 
lullaby. 

^•Joe,  Joel"  said  the  stout  gentleman,  when  the 
citadel  was  taken,  and  the  besiegers  and  besieged  sat 
down  to  dinner.  "^'Damn  that  boy,  he's  gone  to  sleep 
again.  Be  good  enough  to  pinch  him,  sir — in  the  leg, 
if  you  please;  nothing  else  wakes  him — thank  you.  Undo 
the  hamper,  Joe." 

The  fat  boy,  who  had  been  effectually  roused  by 
the  compression  of  a  portion  of  his  leg  between  the 
finger  and  thumb  of  Mr.  Winkle,  rolled  off  the  box  once 
again,  and  proceeded  to  unpack  the  hamper,  with  more 
expedition  than  could  have  been  expected  from  his  pre- 
vious inactivity. 

''Now,  we  must  sit  close,"  said  the  stout  gentleman. 
After  a  good  many  jokes  about  sfjueezing  the  ladies' 
sleeves,  and  a  vast  quantity  of  blushmg  at  sundry  jocose 
proposals  that  the  ladies  should  sit  in  the  gentlemen's 
laps,  the  whole  party  was  stowed  down  in  the  barouche; 
and  the  stout  gentl(3man  proceeded  to  hand  the  things 
from  the  fat  boy  (who  had  mounted  up  behind  for  the 
purpose)  into  the  carriage. 

''Now,  Joe,  knives  and  forks."  The  knives  and  forks 
were  liandod  in,  and  the  Indies  and  gentlemen  inside, 


56  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  box,  were  each  furnished  with 
those  useful  implements. 

''Plates,  Joe,  plates."  A  similar  process  employed  in 
the  distribution  of  the  cr.ockery. 

''Now,  Joe,  the  fowls.  Damn  that  boy;  he's  gone  to 
sleep  again.  Joe  !  Joe  ! "  (Sundry  taps  on  the  head 
with  a  stick,  and  the  fat  boy,  with  some  difficulty,  roused 
from  his  lethargy).    "Come,  hand  in  the  eatables." 

There  was  something  in  the  sound  of  the  last  word, 
which  roused  the  unctuous  boy.  He  jumped  up:  and 
the  leaden  eyes,  which  twinkled  behind  his  mountainous 
cheeks,  leered  horribly  upon  the  food  as  he  unpacked  it 
from  the  basket. 

"Now,  make  haste,"  said  Mr.  Wardle;  for  the  fat  boy 
was  hanging  fondly  over  a  capon,  which  he  seemed 
wholly  unable  to  part  with.  The  boy  sighed  deeply, 
and,  bestowing  an  ardent  gaze  upon  its  plumpness,  un- 
willingly consigned  it  to  his  master. 

"That's  right — look  sharp.  Now^the  tongue — now 
the  pigeon-pie.  Take  care  of  that  veal  and  ham— mind 
the  lobsters — take  the  salad  out  of  the  cloth — give  me 
the  dressing."  Such  were  the  hurried  orders  which 
issued  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Wardle,  as  he  handed  in  the 
different  articles  described,  and  placed  dishes  in  every- 
body's  hands,  and  on  everybody's  knees,  in  endless 
number. 

"Now  ain't  this  capital !"  inquired  that  jolly  person- 
age, when  the  work  of  destruction  had  commenced. 

"Capital!"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  carving  a 
fowl  on  the  box. 

"Glass  of  wine?" 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure." 

"You'd  better  have  a  bottle  to  yourself,  up  there, 
hadn't  you  ?  " 

"  You're  very  good." 
"Joe!" 

"  Yes,  sir.  (He  wasn't  asleep  this  time,  having  just 
succeeded  in  abstracting  a  veal  patty.) 

"  Bottle  of  wine  to  the  gentleman  on  the  box.  Glad 
to  see  you,  sir." 

"  Thankee.  Mr.  Winkle  emptied  his  glass,  and  placed 
the  bottle  on  the  coach-box,  by  his  side. 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  have  the  pleasure,  sir  ?"  said 
Mr.  Trundle  to  Mr,  Winkle. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


57 


"With  g^reat  pleasure/'  replied  Mr.  Winkle  to  Mr. 
Trundle;  and  then  the  two  gentlemen  took  wine,  after 
which  they  took  a  glass  of  wine  round,  ladies  and  all. 

How  dear  Emily  is  flirting  with  the  strange  gentle- 
man/' whispered  the  spinster  aunt,  with  true  spinster- 
aunt-like  envy,  to  her  brother,  Mr.  Wardle. 

''Oh!  I  don't  know,"  said  the  jolly  old  gentleman; 
''all  very  natural,  I  dare  say — nothing  unusual.  Mr. 
Pickwick,  some  wine,  sir?  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been 
deeply  investigating  the  interior  of  the  pigeon-pie, 
readily  assented. 

"Emily,  my  dear,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  a  pa- 
tronizing air,  "don't  talk  so  loud,  love." 

"Lor,  aunt!" 

"  Aunt  and  the  little  old  gentleman  want  to  have  it  all 
to  themselves,  I  think,"  whispered  Miss  Isabella  Wardle 
to  her  sister  Emily.  The  young  ladies  laughed  very 
heartily,  and  the  old  one  tried  to  look  amiable,  but 
couldn't  manage  itm 

"  Young  girls  have  such  spirits,"  said  Miss  Wardle  to 
Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  air  of  gentle  commiseration,  as  if 
animal  spirits  were  contraband,  and  their  possession, 
without  a  permit,  a  high  crime  and  misdemeanour. 

"Oh,  they  have,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  not  exactly 
making  the  sort  of  reply  that  was  expected  from  him. 
"It's  quite  delightful." 

"  Hem!"  said  Miss  Wardle,  rather  dubiously. 

' '  Will  you  permit  me,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  his  blandest 
manner,  touching  the  enchanting  Rachael's  wrist  with 
one  hand,  and  gently  elevating  the  bottle  with  the  other. 
"Will  you  permit  me?" 

"  Oh,  sir!"  Mr.  Tupman  looked  most  impressive;  and 
Rachael  expressed  her  fear  that  more  guns  were  going 
off,  in  which  case,  of  course,  she  would  have  required 
support  again. 

"Do  you  think  my  dear  nieces  pretty?"  whispered 
their  affectionate  aunt  to  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  should  if  their  aunt  wasn't  here,"  replied  the  ready 
Pickwickian,  with  a  jjassionate  glance. 

"  Oh,  you  naughty  man — but  really,  if  their  complex- 
ions were  a  little  better,  don't  you  think  they  would  be 
nice-looking  ^irls— by  candle-light?" 

"Yes;  I  think  they  would;"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  with 
an  air  of  indifference. 


58  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''Oh,  you  quiz — I  know  what  you  were  going  to  say." 

''What?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  pre- 
cisely made  up  his  mind  to  say  anything  at  all. 

"  You  were  going  to  say  that  Isabella  stoops — I  know 
you  were — you  men  are  such  observers.  Well,  so  she 
does;  it  can't  be  denied;  and  certainly,  if  there  is  one 
thing  more  than  another  that  makes  a  girl  look  ugly,  it 
is  stooping.  I  often  tell  her,  that  when  she  gets  a 
little  older,  she'll  be  quite  frightful.  Well,  you  are 
a  quiz ! " 

Mr.  Tupman  had  no  objection  to  earning  the  reputa- 
tion at  so  cheap  a  rate  :  so  he  looked  very  knowing,  and 
smiled  mysteriously. 

"  What  a  sarcastic  smile,"  said  the  admiring  Rachael; 
"  I  declare  I'm  quite  afraid  of  you." 

"  Afraid  of  me!  " 

"  Oh,  you  can't  disguise  anything  from  me — I  know 
what  that  smile  means,  very  well." 

"  What?"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  the  slightest 
notion  himself. 

You  mean,"  said  the  amiable  aunt,  sinking  her  voice 
still  lower — "  You  mean  that  you  don't  think  Isabella's 
stooping  as  bad  as  Emiily's  boldness.  Well,  she  is  bold! 
You  cannot  think  how  wretched  it  makes  me  sometimes 
— I'm  sure  I  cry  about  it  for  hours  together — my  dear 
brother  is  so  good,  and  so  unsuspicious,  that  he  never 
sees  it;  if  he  did,  I'm  quite  certain  it  would  break  his 
heart.  I  wish  I  could  think  it  was  only  manner — I  hope 
it  may  be — "  (here  the  affectionate  relative  heaved  a 
deep  sigh,  and  shook  her  head  despondingly). 

"  I'm  sure  aunt's  talking  about  us,"  whispered  Miss 
Emily  Wardle  to  her  sister — "  I'm  quite  certain  of  it — 
she  looks  so  malicious." 

"Is  she?"  replied  Isabella — "Hem!  aunt,  dear!" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  love!  " 

"  I'm  so  afraid  you'll  catch  cold,  aunt — have  a  silk 
handkerchief  to  tie  round  your  dear  old  head — you  really 
should  take  care  of  yourself — consider  your  age! " 

However  well  deserved  this  piece  of  retaliation  might 
have  been,  it  was  as  vindictive  a  one  as  could  well  have 
been  resorted  to.  There  is  no  guessing  in  what  form  of 
reply  the  aunt's  indignation  would  have  vented  itself, 
had  not  Mr.  Wardle  unconsciously  changed  the  subject, 
by  calling  emphatically  for  Joe, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


59 


Damn  that  boy/'  said  !;he  old  gentleman,  he's  gone 
to  sleep  again." 

Very  extraordinary  boy,  that/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
''does  he  always  sleep  in  this  way!" 

"  Sleep!"  said  the  old  gentleman,  ''  he's  always  asleep. 
Goes  on  errands  fast  asleep,  and  snores  as  he  waits  at 
table." 

How  very  odd!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
''Ah!  odd  indeed,"  returned  the  old  gentleman  ;  I'm 
proud  of  that  boy — wouldn't  part  with  him  on  any  ac- 
count— he's  a  natural  curiosity!  Here,  Joe — Joe — take 
these  things  awav,  and  open  another  bottle — d'ye 
hear?" 

The  fat  boy  rose,  opened  his  eyes,  swallowed  the  huge 
piece  of  pie  he  had  been  in  the  act  of  masticating  when 
he  last  fell  asleep,  and  slowly  obeyed  his  master's  orders 
— gloating  languidly  over  the  remains  of  the  feast,  as  he 
removed  the  plates,  and  deposited  them  in  the  hamper. 
The  fresh  bottle  was  produced,  and  speedily  emptied: 
the  hamper  was  made  fast  in  its  old  place — the  fat  boy 
once  more  mounted  the  box — the  spectacles  and  pocket- 
glass  were  again  adjusted — and  the  evolutions  of  the 
military  recommenced.  There  was  a  great  fizzing  and 
banging  of  guns,  and  starting  of  ladies — and  then  a 
mine  was  sprung,  to  the  gratification  of  everybody — 
and  when  the  mine  had  gone  off,  the  military  and  the 
company  followed  its  example,  and  went  off  too. 

"Now,  mind,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Mr.  Pickwick  at  the  conclusion  of  a  conver- 
sation which  had  been  carried  on  at  intervals,  during 
the  conclusion  of  the  proceedings,  "we  shall  see  you  all 
to-morrow." 

"Most  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"You  have  got  the  address?" 

"Manor  Farm,  Dingley  Dell,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  con- 
sulting his  pocket-book. 

"That's  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  I  don't  let  vou 
off,  mind,  under  a  week;  and  undertake  that  you  shall 
see  everything  worth  seeing.  If  you've  come  down  for 
a  country  life,  come  to  me,  and  I'll  give  you  plenty  of  it. 
Joe — damn  that  boy,  he's  gone  to  sleep  again — Joe,  help 
Tom  put  in  the  horses." 

The  horses  were  put  in — the  driver  mounted — the  fat 
boy  clambered  up  by  his  side — farewells  were  exchanged 


60  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


— and  the  carriage  rattled  off.  As  the  Pickwickians 
turned  round  to  take  a  last  glimpse  of  it,  the  setting  sun 
cast  a  rich  glow  on  the  faces  of  their  entertainers,  and 
fell  upon  the  form  of  the  fat  boy.  His  head  was  sunk 
upon  his  bosom ;  and  he  slumbered  again. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  SHORT  ONE — SHOWING,  AMONG  OTHER  MATTERS,  HOW  MR. 
PICKWICK  UNDERTOOK  TO  DRIVE,  AND  MR.  WINKLE 
TO  RIDE;  AND  HOW  THEY  BOTH  DID  IT. 

Bright  and  pleasant  was  the  sky,  balmy  the  air,  and 
beautiful  the  appearance  of  every  object  around,  as  Mr. 
Pickwick  leaned  over  the  balustrades  of  Rochester 
Bridge,  contemplating  nature,  and  waiting  for  breakfast. 
The  scene  was  indeed  one  which  might  well  have 
charmed  a  far  less  reflective  mind  than  that  to  which  it 
was  presented. 

On  the  left  of  the  spectator  lay  the  ruined  wall,  broken 
in  many  places,  and  in  some  overhanging  the  narrow 
beach  below  in  rude*  and  heavy  masses.  Huge  knots  of 
sea-weed  hung  upon  the  jagged  and  pointed  stones, 
trembling  in  every  breath  of  wind;  and  the  green  ivy 
clung  mournfully  round  the  dark  and  ruined  battle- 
ments. Behind  it  rose  the  ancient  castle,  its  towers 
roofless,  and  its  massive  walls  crumbling  away,  but  tell- 
ing us  proudly  of  its  old  might  and  strength,  as  when, 
seven  hundred  years  ago,  it  rang  with  the  clash  of 
arms,  or  resounded  with  the  noise  of  feasting  and  rev- 
elry. On  either  side,  the  banks  of  the  Medway,  covered 
with  corn-fields  and  pastures,  with  here  and  there  a 
windmill,  or  a  distant  church,  stretched  away  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see,  presenting  a  rich  and  varied  land- 
scape, rendered  more  beautiful  by  the  changing  shadows 
which  passed  swiftly  across  it,  as  the  thin  and  half- 
formed  clouds  skimmed  away  in  the  light  of  the  morn- 
ing sun.  Tlje  river,  reflecting  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky, 
glistened  and  sparkled  as  it  flowed  noiselessly  on;  and 
the  oars  of  the  fishermen  dipped  into  the  water  with  a 
clear  and  liquid  sound,  as  the  heavy  but  picturesque 
boats  glided  slowly  down  the  stream. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


61 


Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused  from  the  agreeable  reverie 
into  which  he  had  been  led  by  the  objects  before  him,  by 
a  deep  sigh,  and  a  touch  on  his  shoulder.  He  turned 
round:  and  the  dismal  man  was  at  his  side. 

"  Contemplating  the  scene?"  inquired  the  dismal  man. 

"  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''And  congratulating  yourself  on  being  up  so  soon?" 
Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 

''Ah!  people  need  to  rise  early,  to  see  the  sun  in  ail 
his  splendour,  for  his  brightness  seldom  lasts  the  day 
through.  The  morning  of  day  and  the  morning  of  life 
are  but  too  much  alike." 

"You  speak  truly,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"How  common  the  saying,"  continued  the  dismal 
man,  "'The  morning's  too  fine  to  last.'  How  well 
might  it  be  applied  to  our  every-day  existence.  God! 
what  would  I  forfeit  to  have  the  days  of  my  childhood 
restored,  or  to  be  able  to  forget  them  forever!" 

"  You  have  seen  much  trouble,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, compassionately. 

"I  have,"  said  the  dismal  man,  hurriedly;  "I  have. 
More  than  those  who  see  me  now  would  believe  pos- 
sible." He  paused  for  an  instant,  and  then  said, 
abruptly: 

"Did  it  ever  strike  you,  on  such  a  morning  as  this, 
that  drowning  would  be  happiness  and  peace?" 

"  God  bless  me,  no!"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  edging  a 
little  from  the  balustrade,  as  the  possibility  of  the  dismal 
man's  tipping  him  over,  by  way  of  experiment,  occurred 
to  him  rather  forcibly. 

"/  have  thought  so,  often,"  said  the  dismal  man, 
without  noticing  the  action.  "The  calm,  cool  water 
seems  to  me  to  murmur  an  invitation  to  repose  and  rest. 
A  bound,  a  splash,  a  brief  struggle;  there  is  an  eddy  for 
an  instant,  it  gradually  subsides  into  a  gentle  ripple; 
the  waters  have  closed  above  your  head,  and  the  world 
has  closed  upon  your  misfortunes  forever."  The  sunken 
eye  of  the  dismal  man  flashed  brightly  as  he  spoke,  but 
the  momentary  excitement  guickly  subsided;  and  he 
turned  calmly  away,  as  he  said: 

"  There — enough  of  that.  I  wish  to  see  you  on  another 
subject.  You  mvited  me  to  read  that  paper,  the 
night'  before  last,  and  listened  attentively  while  I 
did  6o." 


G2  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^'I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  ^^and  I  certainly 
thought—" 

"  I  asked  for  no  opinion/'  said  the  dismal  man,  inter- 
rupting him,  and  I  want  none.  You  are  travelling  for 
amusement  and  instruction.  Suppose  I  forward  you  a 
curious  manuscript — observe,  not  curious  because  wild 
or  improbable,  but  curious  as  a  leaf  from  the  romance 
of  real  life.  Would  you  communicate  it  to  the  club,  of 
which  you  have  spoken  so  frequently?" 

Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^^if  you  wish  it; 
and  it  would  be  entered  on  their  Transactions." 

You  shall  have  it,"  replied  the  dismal  man.  Your 
address;"  and,  Mr.  Pickwick  having  communicated  their 
probable  route,  the  dismal  man  carefully  noted  it  down 
in  a  greasy  pocket-book,  and,  resisting  Mr.  Pickwick's 

Eressing  invitation  to  breakfast,  left  that  gentleman  at 
is  inn,  and  walked  slowly  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  found  that  his  three  companions  had 
risen,  and  were  waiting  his  arrival  to  commence  break- 
fast, which  was  ready  laid  in  tempting  display.  They 
sat  down  to  the  meal;  and  broiled  ham,  eggs,  tea,  coffee, 
and  sundries,  began  to  disappear  with  a  rapidity  which 
at  once  bore  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  the  fare,  and 
the  appetites  of  its  consumers. 

' '  Now,  about  Manor  Farm,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  '  'How 
shall  we  go?" 

We  had  better  consult  the  waiter,  perhaps,"  said  Mr. 
Tupman,  and  the  waiter  was  summoned  accordingly. 

''Dingley  Dell,  gentlemen — fifteen  miles,  gentlemen 
— cross  road — post-chase,  sir?" 

Post-chase  won't  hold  more  than  two,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''True,  sir— beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Very  nice  four- 
wheel  chaise,  sir — seat  for  two  behind — one  in  front  for 
the  gentleman  that  drives — oh!  beg  your  pardon,  sir — 
that  '11  only  hold  three." 

"  What 's  to  be  done?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"Perhaps  one  of  the  gentlemen  like  to  ride,  sir;"  sug- 
gested the  waiter,  looking  towards  Mr.  Winkle;  "very 
good  saddle  horse,  sir — any  of  Mr.  Wardle's  men  com- 
ing to  Rochester,  bring  'em  back,  sir." 

The  very  thing,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Winkle,  will 
you  go  on  horseback?" 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  did  entertain  considerable  misgiv- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


63 


ings  in  the  very  lowest  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  rela- 
tive to  his  equestrian  skill;  but,  as  he  would  not  have 
them  even  suspected  on  any  account,  he  at  once  replied 
with  great  hardihood,  "  Certainly.  I  should  enjoy  it,  of 
all  things." 

Mr.  Winkle  had  rushed  upon  his  fate;  there  was  no 
resource.  ''Let  them  be  at  the  door  by  eleven,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  retired;  the  breakfast  concluded;  and  the 
travellers  ascended  to  their  respective  bed-rooms,  to 
prepare  a  change  of  clothing,  to  take  with  them  on  their 
approaching  expedition. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  made  his  preliminary  arrange- 
ments, and  was  looking  over  the  coffee-room  blinds  at 
the  passengers  in  the  street,  when  the  waiter  entered, 
and  announced  that  the  chaise  was  ready — an  announce- 
ment which  the  vehicle  itself  confirmed,  by  forthwith 
appearing  before  the  coffee-room  blinds  aforesaid. 

It  was  a  curious  little  green  box  on  four  wheels,  with 
a  low  place  like  a  wine-bin  for  two  behind,  and  an  ele- 
vated perch  for  one  in  front,  drawn  by  an  immense 
brown  horse,  displaying  great  symmetry  of  bone.  An 
hostler  stood  near,  holding  by  the  bridle  another  im- 
mense horse — apparently  a  near  relative  of  the  animal 
in  the  chaise — ready  saddled  for  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Bless  my  soul! "said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  they  stood 
upon  the  pavement  while  the  coats  were  being  put  in. 
''Bless  my  soul  I  who's  to  drive?  I  never  thought  of 
that." 

Oil!  you,  of  course,"  iiaid  Mr.  Tupman. 
"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 
"I!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Not  the  slightest  fear,  sir,"  interposed  the  hostler. 
"Warrant  him  quiet,  sir;  ahinfant  in  arms  might  drive 
him." 

"He  don't  shy,  does  he?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Shy,  sir? — he  wouldn't  shy  if  he  was  to  meet  a  vag- 
gin-load  of  monkeys,  with  their  tails  burnt  off." 

The  last  recommendation  was  indisputable.  Mr. 
Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  got  into  the  bin;  Mr.  Pick« 
wick  ascended  to  his  perch,  and  deposited  his  feet  on  a 
floor-clothed  shelf,  erected  beneath  it,  for  that  puri)ose. 
Now,  shiny  Villiam,"  said  the  hostler  to  the  deputy 


64  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


hostler,  ^'give  the  gen'lm'n  the  ribbins/'  Shiny  Vil- 
liam  " — so  called,  probably,  from  his  sleek  Jiair  and  oily 
countenance — placed  the  reins  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  left 
hand;  and  the  upper  hostler  thrust  a  whip  into  his 
right. 

Wo — o!"  cried  Mr,  Pickwick,  as  the  tall  quadruped 
evinced  a  decided  inclination  to  back  into  the  coffee- 
room  window. 

''Wo — ol"  echoed  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
from  the  bin. 

"  Only  his  playfulness,  gen'lm'n,"  said  the  head  hostler, 
encouragingly;  '' jist  kitch  hold  on  him,  Villiam."  The 
deputy  restrained  the  animal's  impetuosity,  and  the  prin- 
cipal ran  to  assist  Mr.  Winkle  in  mounting! 

''T'other  side,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  Blowed  if  the  gem'lm'n  worn't  a  gettin'  up  on  the 
wrong  side,"  whispered  a  grinning  post-boy  to  the  inex- 
pressibly gratified  waiter. 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  instructed,  climbed  into  his  saddle, 
with  about  as  much  difficulty  as  he  would  have  experi- 
enced in  getting  up  the  side  of  a  first-rate  man-of-war. 

"All  right?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  inward 
presentiment  that  it  wao  all  wrong. 

"All  right,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  faintly. 

" Let 'em  go,"  cried  the  hostler — "hold  him  in,  sir;" 
and  away  went  the  chaise,  and  the  saddle  horse,  with 
Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  box  of  the  one,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on 
the  back  of  the  other,  to  the  delight  and  gratification  of 
the  whole  inn  yard. 

"What  makes  him  go  sideways?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
in  the  bin,  to  Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  saddle. 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  His  horse  was 
drifting  up  the  street  in  the  most  mysterious  manner — 
side  first,  with  his  head  towards  one  side  of  the  way, 
and  his  tail  towards  the  other. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  no  leisure  to  observe  either  this,  or 
any  other  particular,  the  whole  of  his  faculties  being 
concentrated  in  the  management  of  the  animal  attached 
to  the  chaise,  who  displayed  various  peculiarities,  highly 
interesting  to  a  by-stander,  but  by  no  means  equally 
amusing  to  any  one  seated  behind  him.  Besides  con- 
stantly jerking  his  head  up,  in  a  very  unpleasant  and 
uncomfortable  manner,  and  tugging  at  the  reins  to  an 
extent  which  rendered  it  a  matter  of  great  difficulty  for 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


65 


Mr.  Pickwick  to  hold  them,  he  had  a  singular  propensity 
for  darting  suddenly  every  now  and  then  to  the  side  of 
the  road,  then  stopping  short,  and  then  rushing  forward 
for  some  minutes,  at  a  speed  which  it  was  wholly  impos- 
sible to  control. 

^' What  can  he  mean  by  this?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
when  the  horse  had  executed  this  manoeuvre  for  the  twen- 
tieth time. 

I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman;  ''it  looks  very 
like  shying,  doii't  it?"  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to  re- 
ply, when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  from  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

''Woo,"  said  that  gentleman,  "I  have  dropped  my 
whip." 

"Winkle,"  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  the  equestrian 
came  trotting  up  on  the  tall  horse,  with  his  hat  over  his 
ears:  and  shaking  all  over,  as  if  he  would  shake  to  pieces, 
with  the  violence  of  the  exercise.  "Pick  up  the  whip, 
there's  a  good  fellow."  Mr.  Winkle  pulled  at  the  bridle 
of  the  tall  horse  till  he  was  black  in  the  face;  and  hav- 
ing at  length  succeeded  in  stopping  him,  dismounted, 
handed  the  whip  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and,  grasping  the 
reins,  prepared  to  remount. 

Now,  whether  the  tall  horse,  in  the  natural  playful- 
ness of  his  disposition,  was  desirous  of  having  a  little 
innocent  recreation  with  Mr.  Winkle,  or  whether  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  he  could  perform  the  journey  as  much 
to  his  own  satisfaction  without  a  rider  as  with  one,  are 
points  upon  which  we  can  arrive  at  no  definite  and  dis- 
tinct conclusion.  By  whatever  motives  the  animal  was 
actuated,  certain  it  is  that  Mr.  Winkle  had  no  sooner 
touched  the  reins,  than  he  slipped  them  over  his  head, 
and  darted  backward  to  their  full  length. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  soothingly — "poor 
fellow — good  old  horse."  The  "poor  fellow"  was  proof 
against  flattery:  the  more  Mr.  Winkle  tried  to  get  nearer 
him,  the  more  he  sidled  away;  and,  notwithstanding  all 
kinds  of  coaxing  and  wheedling,  there  were  Mr.  Winkle 
and  the  good  old  horse  going  round  and  round  each 
other  for  ten  minutes;  at  the  end  of  which  time,  each 
was  at  precisely  the  same  distance  from  the  other  as 
when  they  first  commenced — an  unsatisfactory  sort  of 
thing  un(ier  any  circumstances,  but  particuhirly  so  in  a 
lonely  road,  where  no  assistance  can  be  procured. 


66  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''What  am  I  to  do?"  shouted  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the 
dodging  had  been  prolonged  for  a  considerable  time. 

What  am  I  to  do?   I  can't  get  on  him?" 

''You  had  better  lead  him  till  we  come  to  a  turnpike/' 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  from  the  chaise. 

"Buthe  won't  come,"  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  "Do  come 
and  hold  him." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  impersonation  of  kindness  and 
humanity;  he  threw  the  reins  on  the  horse's  back,  and 
having  descended  from  his  seat,  carefully  drew  the 
chaise  into  the  hedge,  lest  anything  should  come  along 
the  road,  and  stepped  back  to  the  assistance  of  his  dis- 
tressed companion,  leaving  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  in  the  vehicle. 

The  horse  no  sooner  beheld  Mr.  Pickwick  advancing 
towards  him  with  the  chaise  whip  in  his  hand,  than  he  ex- 
changed the  rotatory  motion  in  which  he  had  previously 
indulged  for  a  retrograde  movement  of  so  very  deter- 
mined a  character,  that  it  at  once  drew  Mr.  Winkle,  who 
was  still  at  the  end  of  the  bridle,  at  a  ra  ther  quicker  rate 
than  fast  walking,  in  the  direction  from  which  they  had 
just  come.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  to  his  assistance,  but  the 
faster  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  forward,  the  faster  the  horse 
ran  backward. 

There  was  a  great  scraping  of  feet,  and  kicking  up  of 
the  dust;  and  at  last  Mr.  Winkle,  his  arms  being  nearly 
pulled  out  of  their  sockets,  fairly  let  go  his  hold.  The 
horse  paused,  stared,  shook  his  head,  turned  round,  and 
quietly  trotted  home  to  Rochester,  leaving  Mr.  Winkle 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  gazing  on  each  other  with  coun- 
tenances of  blank  dismaj^  A  rattling  noise  at  a  little 
distance  attracted  their  attention.    They  looked  up. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  exclaimed  the  agonized  Mr  Pick- 
wick, "  there's  the  other  horse  running  away!" 

It  was  but  too  true.  The  animal  was  startled  by  the 
noise,  and  the  reins  were  on  his  back.  The  result  may 
be  guessed.  He  tore  off  with  the  four-wheeled  chaise 
behind  him,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the 
four-wheeled  chaise.  The  heat  was  a  short  one.  Mr. 
Tupman  threw  himself  into  the  hedge,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass 
followed  his  example,  the  horse  dashed  the  four-wheeled 
chaise  against  a  wooden  bridge,  separated  the  wheels 
from  the  body,  and  the  bin  from  the  perch;  and  finally 
3tood  stock  still  to  gaze  upon  the  ruin  he  had  madQ. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  67 

The  first  care  of  the  two  unspilt  friends  was  to  extri- 
cate their  unfortunate  companions  from  their  bed  of 
quickset — a  process  which  gave  them  the  unspeakable 
satisfaction  of  discovering  that  they  had  sustained  no 
injury,  beyond  sundry  rents  in  their  garments,  and 
various  lacerations  from  the  brambles.  The  next  thing 
to  be  done  was,  to  unharness  the  horse.  This  compli- 
cated process  having  been  effected,  the  party  walked 
slowly  forward,  leading  the  horse  among  them,  and 
abandoning  the  chaise  to  its  fate. 

An  hour's  walking  brought  the  travellers  to  a  little 
roadside  public-house,  with  two  elm  trees,  a  horse 
troagh,  and  a  sign-post,  in  front;  one  or  two  deformed 
hay-ricks  behind,  a  kitchen  garden  at  the  side,  and  rot- 
ten sheds  and  mouldering  out-houses  jumbled  in  strange 
confusion,  all  about  it.  A  red-headed  man  was  working 
in  the  garden;  and  to  him  Mr.  Pickwick  called  lustily— 

Hallo  there  r 

The  red-headed  man  raised  his  body,  shaded  his  eyes 
with  his  hand,  and  stared  long  and  coolly  at  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  his  companions. 

"  Hallo  there  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Hallo  !"  was  the  red-headed  man's  reply. 
How  far  is  it  to  Dingley  Dell?" 
"  Better  er  seven  mile." 
Is  it  a  good  road?" 

No,  t'ant."  Having  uttered  this  brief  reply,  and 
apparently  satisfied  himself  with  another  scrutiny,  the 
red-headed  man  resumed  his  work. 

''We  want  to  put  this  horse  up  here,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick: "  I  suppose  we  can,  can't  we?" 

''Want  to  put  that  ere  horse  up,  do  ee?"  repeated  the 
red-headed  man,  leaning  on  his  spade. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  by  this 
time  advanced,  horse  in  hand,  to  the  garden  rails. 

"  Missus  " — roared  the  man  with  the  red  head,  emerg- 
ing from  the  garden,  and  looking  very  hard  at  the 
horse — "  Missus."  • 

A  tall,  bony  woman — straight  all  the  way  down — in  a 
coarse  blue  pelisse,  with  the  waist  an  inch  or  two  below 
the  arm-pits,  responded  to  the  call. 

"  Can  we  put  this  horse  up  here,  my  good  woman?" 
said  Mr.  Tupman,  advancing,  and  speakmg  in  his  most 
seductive  tones.    The  woman  looked  very  hard  at  the 


68  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

whole  party;  and  the  red-headed  man  whispered  some- 
thing in  her  ear. 

No/'  replied  the  woman,  after  a  little  consideration 
''Vm  afeerd  on  it." 

''Afraid!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''What's  the 
woman  afraid  of?" 

"  It  got  us  in  trouble  last  time/'  said  the  woman,  turn- 
ing into  the  house;  "  I  woan't  have  nothin'  to  say  to  'un." 

"Most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  met  with  in  my 
life/'  said  the  astonished  Mr.  rickwick. 

"  I — I — really  believe/'  whispered  Mr.  Winkle,  as  his 
friends  gathered  round  him,  "that  they  think  we  have 
come  by  this  horse  in  some  dishonest  manner." 

"  What? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  storm  of  indig- 
nation.   Mr.  Winkle  modestly  repeated  his  suggestion. 

"Hallo,  you  fellow?"  said  the  angry  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  Do  you  think  we  stole  this  horse?" 

"I'm  sure  ye  did,"  replied  the  red-headed  man,  with  a 
grin  which  agitated  his  countenance  from  one  auricular 
organ  to  the  other.  Saying  which  he  turned  into  the 
house,  and  banged  the  door  after  him. 

"It's  like  a  dream,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick — "a 
hideous  dream.  The  idea  of  a  man's  walking  about,  all 
day,  with  a  dreadful  horse  that  he  can't  get  rid  of! " 
The  depressed  Pickwickians  turned  moodily  away,  with 
the  tall  quadruped,  for  which  they  all  felt  the  most  un- 
mitigated disgust,  following  slowly  at  their  heels. 

It  was  late  m  the  afternoon  when  the  four  friends  and 
their  four-footed  companion,  turned  into  the  lane  lead- 
ing to  Manor  Farm:  and  even  when  they  were  so  near 
their  place  of  destination,  the  pleasure  they  would  other- 
wise nave  experienced  was  materially  dampened  as  they 
reflected  on  the  singularity  of  their  appearance,  and  the 
absurdity  of  their  situation.  Torn  clothes,  lacerated 
faces,  dusty  shoes,  exhausted  looks,  and,  above  all,  the 
horse.  Oh,  how  Mr.  Pickwick  cursed  that  horse:  he 
had  eyed  the  noble  animal  from  time  to  time  with  looks 
expressive  of  hatred  and 'revenge;  more  than  once  he 
had  calculated  the  probable  amount  of  expense  he  would 
incur  by  cutting  his  throat;  and  now  the  temptation  to 
destroy  him,  or  cast  him  loose  upon  the  world,  rushed 
upon  his  mind  with  tenfold  force.  He  was  roused  from 
a  meditation  on  these  dire  imaginings,  by  the  sudden 
appeargtnce  of  two  figures,  at  a  turn  of  the  lane.  It 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


was  Mr.  Wardle,  and  his  faithful  attendant,  the  fat 
boy. 

Why,  where  have  you  been?"  said  the  hospitable  old 
gentleman,  I've  been  waiting  for  you  all  day.  Well, 
you  do  look  tired.  What!  Scratches!  Not  hurt  I  hope 
— eh?  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that — very.  So  you've 
been  spilt,  eh  ?  Never  mind.  Common  accident  in  these 
part^.  Joe — he's  asleep  again!  Joe,  take  that  horse 
from  the  gentlemen,  and  lead  it  into  the  stable." 

The  fat  boy  sauntered  hea^vily  behind  them  with  the 
animal ;  and  the  old  gentleman  condoling  with  his  guests 
in  homely  phrase,  on  so  much  of  the  day's  adventures 
as  they  thought  proper  to  communicate,  led  the  way  to 
the  kitchen. 

We'll  have  you  put  to  rights  here,"  said  the  old  gen* 
tleman,  ''and  then  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  people  in  the 
parlour.  Emma,  bring  out  the  cherry  brandy:  now, 
Jane,  a  needle  and  thread  here;  towels  and  water,  Mary. 
Come,  girls,  bustle  about." 

Three  or  four  buxom  girls  speqdily  dispersed  in  search 
of  the  different  articles  of  requisition,  while  a  couple  of 
large-headed,  circular-visaged  males  rose  from  their  seats 
in  the  chimney  corner  (for  although  it  was  a  May  even- 
ing, their  attachment  to  the  wood  fire  appeared  as  cor- 
dial as  if  it  were  Christmas),  and  dived  into  some  ob- 
scure recess,  from  which  they  speedily  produced  a  bottle 
of  blacking,  and  some  half-dozen  brushes. 

"  Bustle,"  said  the  old  gentleman  again,  but  the  ad- 
monition v>^as  quite  unnecessary,  for  one  of  the  girls 
poured  out  the  cherry  brandy,  and  another  brought  in 
the  towels,  and  one  of  the  men  suddenly  seizing  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  leg,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  throw- 
ing him  off  his  balance,  brushed  away  at  his  boot,  till 
his  corns  were  red-hot;  while  the  other  shampoo'd  Mr. 
Winkle  with  a  heavy  clothes-brush,  indulging,  during 
the  operation,  in  that  hissing  sound,  which  hostlers  are 
wont  to  produce,  when  rubbmg  down  a  horse. 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  having  concluded  his  ablutions,  took  a 
survey  of  the  room,  while  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
fire,  sipping  his  cherry  brandy  with  heartfelt  satisfac- 
tion. He  describes  it  as  a  large  apartment,  with  a  red 
brick  floor,  and  a  capacious  chimney;  the  ceiling  gar- 
nished with  hams,  sides  of  bacon,  and  ropes  of  onions. 
The  walls  were  decorated  with  several  hunting-whips, 


70  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

two  or  three  bridles,  a  saddle  and  an  old  rusty  blunder- 
buss, with  an  inscription  below  it,  intimating  that  it  was 
''Loaded" — as  it  had  been,  on  the  same  authority,  for 
half  a  century  at  least.  An  old  eight-day  clock,  of  sol- 
emn and  sedate  demeanour,  ticked  gravely  in  one  corner: 
and  a  silver  watch  of  equal  antiquity  dangled  from  one 
of  the  many  hooks  which  ornamented  the  dresser. 

''Ready?"  said  the  old  gentleman,  inquiringly,  when 
his  guests  had  been  washed,  mended,  brushed,  and 
brandied. 

''Quite,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Come  along  then,"  and  the  party  having  traversed 
several  dark  passages,  and  being  joined  by  Mr.  Tupman, 
who  had  lingered  behind  to  snatch  a  kiss  from  Emma, 
for  which  he  had  been  duly  rewarded  with  sundry  push- 
ings  andscratcliings,  arrived  at  the  parlour  door. 

"  Welcome,"  said  the  hospitable  host,  throwing  it  open 
and  stepping  forward  to  announce  them,  "Welcome, 
gentlemen,  to  Manor  Farm." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AN  OLD  FASHIONED   CARD-PARTY— THE  CLERGYMAN'S 
VERSES — THE  STORY  OF  THE  CONVICT'S  RETURN. 

Several  guests  who  were  assembled  in  the  old  par- 
lour rose  to  greet  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  upon 
their  entrance  :  and  during  the  performance  of  the  cere- 
mony of  introduction,  with  all  due  formalities,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  leisure  to  observe  the  appearance,  and  speculate 
upon  the  characters  and  pursuits,  of  the  persons  by  whom 
he  was  surrounded — a  habit  in  which  he  in  common  with 
many  other  great  men  delighted  to  indulge. 

A  very  old  lady,  in  a  lofty  cap  and  faded  silk  gown — no 
less  a  personage  than  Mr.  Wardle's  mother— occupied  the 
post  of  honour  on  the  right-hand  corner  of  the  chimney- 
piece;  and  various  certificates  of  her  having  been  brought 
up  in  the  way  she  should  go  when  young,  and  of  her  not 
having  departed  from  it  when  old,  ornamented  the  walls, 
in  the  form  of  samplers  of  ancient  date,  worsted  land- 
scapes of  equal  antiquity,  and  crimson  silk  tea-kettle 
holders  of  a  more  modern  period.    The  aunt,  the  two 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  71 

young  ladies,  and  Mr.  Wardle,  each  vying  with  the  other 
in  paying  zealous  and  unremitting  attentions  to  the  old 
lady,  crowded  around  her  easy-chair,  one  holding  her 
ear-trumpet,  another  an  orange,  and  a  third  a  smelling- 
bottle,  while  a  fourth  was  busily  engaged  in  patting  and 
punching  the  pillows,  which  were  arranged  for  her  sup- 
port. On  the  opposite  side,  sat  a  bald-headed  old  gentle- 
man, with  good-humoured  benevolent  face — the  clergy- 
man of  Dingly  Dell ;  and  next  him  sat  his  wife,  a  stout, 
blooming  old  lady,  who  looked  as  if  she  were  well  skilled, 
not  only  in  the  art  and  mystery  of  manufacturing  home- 
made cordials  greatly  to  other  people's  satisfaction,  but 
of  tasting  them  occasionally  very  much  to  her  own.  A 
little  hard-headed,  Ripstone  pippin-faced  man,  was  con- 
versing with  a  fat  old  gentleman  in  one  corner;  and  two 
or  three  more  old  gentlemen  and  two  or  three  old  ladies 
sat  bolt-upright  and  motionless  in  their  chairs,  staring 
very  hard  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  fellow-voyagers. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  mother,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  at  the  very 
top  of  his  voice. 

Ahl"  said  the  old  lady,  shaking  her  head;  ^^I  can't 
hear  you." 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  grandma! "  screamed  both  the  young 
ladies  together. 

"  Ah! "  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  Well;  it  don't  much 
matter.  He  don't  care  for  an  old  'ooman  like  me,  I  dare 
say." 

I  assure  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  grasping 
the  old  lady's  hand,  and  speaking  so  loud  that  the  ex- 
ertion imparted  a  crimson  hue  to  his  benevolent  coun- 
tenance; I  assure  you,  ma'am,  that  nothing  delights 
me  more,  than  to  see  a  lady  of  your  time  of  life  heading 
so  fine  a  family,  and  looking  so  young  and  well." 

"  Ah! "  said  the  old  lady,  after  a  short  pause;  ''it's  all 
very  fine,  I  dare  say;  but  I  can't  hear  him." 

''Grandma's  rather  put  out  now,"  said  Miss  Isabella 
Wardle,  in  a  low  tone;  "but  she'll  talk  to  you 
presently." 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  his  readiness  to  humour  the  in- 
firmities of  age,  and  entered  into  a  general  conversation 
with  the  other  members  of  the  circle. 

"Delightful  situation  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Delightful!"  echoed  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Tupman, 
^.nd  Winkle. 


7»  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Well,  I  think  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent,  sir," 
said  the  hard-headed  man  with  the  pippin  face;  there 
ain't  indeed,  sir — I'm  sure  there  ain't,  sir;"  and  the  hard- 
headed  man  looked  triumphantly  round,  as  if  he  had 
been  very  much  contradicted  by  somebody,  but  had  got 
the  better  of  him  at  last. 

There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent,"  said 
the  hard-headed  man  again,  after  a  pause. 

'"Cept  MuUins's  Meadows,"  observed  the  fat  man, 
solemnly. 

Mullins's  Meadows!  "  ejaculated  the  other,  with  pro- 
found contempt. 

Ah,  Mullins's  Meadows,"  repeated  the  fat  man. 
"  Reg'lar  good  land  that,"  interposed  another  fat  man. 
And  so  it  is,  sure-ly,"  said  a  third  fat  man. 
Everybody  knows  that,"  said  the  corpulent  host. 
The  hard-headed  man  looked  dubiously  round;  but 
finding  himself  in  a  minority,  assumed  a  compassionate 
air,  and  said  no  more. 

What  are  they  talking  about?"  inquired  the  old  lady 
of  one  of  her  granddaughters,  in  a  very  audible  voice ; 
for,  like  many  deaf  people,  she  never  seemed  to  calcu- 
late on  the  possibility  of  other  persons  hearing  what  she 
said  herself. 

About  the  land,  grandma." 
'  'What  about  the  land  ?   Nothing  the  matter,  is  there  ?  " 
No,  no.    Mr.  Miller  was  saying  our  land  was  better 
than  Mullins's  Meadows." 

Hov/  should  he  know  anything  about  it?"  inquired 
the  old  lady,  indignantly.  "  Miller's  a  conceited  cox- 
comb, and  you  may  tell  him  I  said  so."  Saying  which, 
the  old  Ip.dy,  quite  unconscious  that  she  had  spoken 
above  a  whisper,  drew  herself  up,  and  looked  carving- 
knives  at  the  hard-headed  delinquent. 

Come,  come,"  said  the  bustling  host,  with  a  natural 
anxiety  to  change  the  conversation — ''what  say  you  to 
a  rubber,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

"I  should  like  it  of  all  things,"  replied  that  gentle- 
man; "  but  pray  don't  make  up  one  on  my  account." 

"Oh,  I  assure  you,  mother's  very  fond  of  a  rubber," 
said  Mr.  Wardle;  "  ain't  you,  mother?" 

The  old  lady,  who  was  much  less  deaf  on  this  subject 
than  on  any  other,  replied  in  the  affirmative. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


73 


''Joe,  Joe,"  said  the  old  gentleman — ''Joe — damn 
that — oh,  here  he  is!    Put  out  the  card-tables." 

The  lethargic  youth  contrived,  without  any  additional 
rousing,  to  set  out  two  card-tables;  the  one  for  Pope 
Joan,  and  the  other  for  whist.  The  whist-players  were 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  the  old  lady;  Mr.  Miller  and  the  fat 
gentleman.  The  round  game  comprised  the  rest  of  the 
company. 

The  rubber  was  conducted  with  all  that  gravity  of  de- 
portment, and  sedateness  of  demeanour,  which  befit  the 
pursuit  entitled  ''whist" — a  solemn  observance,  to 
which,  as  it  appears  to  us,  the  title  of  "game "  has  been 
very  irreverently  and  ignominiously  applied.  The 


ously  merry,  as  materially  to  interrupt  the  contempla- 
tions of  Mr.  Miller,  who,  not  being  quite  so  much 
absorbed  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  contrived  to  commit 
various  high  crimes  and  misdemeanours,  which  excited 
the  wrath  of  the  fat  gentleman  to  a  very  great  extent, 
and  called  forth  the  good-humour  of  the  old  lady  in  a 
proportionate  degree. 

"  There,"  cried  the  criminal  Miller,  triumphantly,  as  he 
took  up  the  odd  trick  at  the  conclusion  of  a  hand  ;  "  that 
could  not  have  been  played  better,  I  flatter  myself — im- 
possible to  have  made  another  trick." 

"  Miller  ought  to  have  trumped  the  diamond,  oughtn't 
he,  sir  ? "  said  the  old  lady. 
Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 

"Ought  I,  though?"  said  the  unfortunate,  with  a 
doubtful  appeal  to  his  partner. 

"You  ought,  sir,"  said  the  fat  gentleman,  in  an  awful 
voice. 

"  Very  sorry,"  said  the  crestfallen  Miller. 
"Much  use  that,"  growled  the  fat  gentleman. 
"  Two  by  honours  makes  us  eight,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Another  hand.    "Can  you  one?"  inquired  the  old 
lady. 

"  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Double,  single,  and 
the  rub." 

"  Never  was  such  luck,"  said  Mr.  Miller. 

"Never  was  such  cards,"  said  the  fat  gentleman. 

A  solemn  silence  ;  Mr.  Pickwick  humorous,  the  old 
lady  serious,  the  fat  gentleman  captious,  and  Mr.  Miller 
timorous. 


round-game  table,  on  the  other 


74  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Another  double,"  said  .the  old  lady,  triumphantly 
making  a  memorandum  of  the  circumstance,  by  placing 
one  sixpence  and  a  battered  halfpenny  under  the  candle- 
stick. 

''A  double,  sir/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Quite  aware  of  the  fact,  sir,"  replied  the  fat  gentle- 
man, sharply. 

Another  game,  with  a  similar  result,  was  followed  by 
a  revoke  from  the  unlucky  Miller,  on  which  the  fat  gen- 
tleman burst  into  a  state  of  high  personal  excitement 
which  lasted  until  the  conclusion  of  the  game,  when  he 
retired  into  a  corner,  and  remained  perfectly  mute  for 
one  hour  and  twenty-seven  minutes,  at  the  end  of  v/hich 
time  he  emerged  from  his  retirement,  and  offered  Mr. 
Pickwick  a  pinch  of  snuff  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has 
made  up  his  mind  to  a  Christian  forgiveness  of  injuries 
sustained.  The  old  lady's  hearing  decidedly  improved, 
and  the  unlucky  Miller  felt  as  much  out  of  his  element 
as  a  dolphin  in  a  sentry-box. 

Meanwhile  the  round  game  proceeded  right  merrily, 
Isabella  Wardle and  Mr.  Trundle  ''went  partners,"  and 
Emily  Wardle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  did  the  same,  and 
even  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  spinster  aunt  established  a 
joint-stock  company  of  fish  and  flattery.  Old  Mr.  Wardle 
was  in  the  very  height  of  his  jollity  and  he  was  so 
funny  in  his  management  of  the  board,  and  the  old 
ladies  were  so  sharp  after  their  winnings,  that  the 
whole  table  was  in  a  perpetual  roar  of  merriment  a.nd 
laughter.  There  was  one  old  lady  who  always  had 
about  half-a-dozen  cards  to  pay  for,  at  which  everybody 
laughed  regularly  every  round;  and  when  the  old  lady 
looked  cross  at  having  to  pay  they  laughed  louder  than 
ever,  on  which  the  old  lady's  face  gradually  brightened 
up,  till  at  last  she  laughed  louder  than  any  of  them. 
Then,  when  the  spinster  aunt  got  ''matrimony,"  the 
young  ladies  laughed  afresh,  and  the  spinster  aunt 
seemed  disposed  to  be  pettish  ;  till,  feeling  Mr.  Tupman 
squeezing  her  hand  under  the  table,  she  brightened  up 
too,  and  looked  rather  knowing,  as  if  matrimony  in 
reality  were  not  quite  so  far  off  as  some  people  thought 
for;  whereupon  everybody  laughed  again,  and  especially 
old  Mr.  Wardle,  wno  enjoyed  a  joke  as  much  as  the 
youngest.  As  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  he  did  nothing  but 
whisper  poetical  sentiments  into  his  partner's  ear,  which 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


75 


made  one  old  gentleman  facetiously  sly  about  partner- 
ships at  cards  and  partnerships  for  life,  and  caused  the 
aforesaid  old  gentleman  to  make  some  remarks  there- 
upon, accompanied  with  divers  winks  and  chuckles, 
which  made  the  company  very  merry,  and  the  old  gentle- 
man's wife  especially  so.  And  Mr.  Winkle  came  out 
with  jokes  which  are  very  well  known  in  town,  but  are 
not  at  all  known  in  the  country  ;  and  as  everybody 
laughed  at  them  very  heartily,  and  said  they  were  very 
capital,  Mr.  Winkle  was  in  a  state  of  great  honour  and 
glory.  And  the  benevolent  clergymaji  looked  pleasantly 
on,  for  the  happy  faces  which  surrounded  the  table 
made  the  good  old  man  feel  happy  too  ;  and  though  the 
merriment  was  rather  boisterous,  still  it  came  from  the 
heart  and  not  from  the  lips,  and  this  is  the  right  sort  of 
merriment  after  all. 

The  evening  glided  swiftly  away  in  these  cheerful  re- 
creations, and  when  the  substantial  though  homely  sup- 
per had  been  despatched,  and  the  little  party  formed  a 
social  circle  round  the  fire,  Mr.  Pickwick  thought  he  had 
never  felt  so  happy  in  his  life,  and  at  no  time  so  much 
disposed  to  enjoy  and  make  the  most  of  the  passing  mo- 
ments. ''Now  this,"  said  the  hospitable  host,  who  was 
sitting  in  great  state  next  the  old  lady's  arm-chair,  with 
her  hand  clasped  in  his—'' This  is  just  what  I  like — the 
happiest  moments  of  my  life  have  been  passed  at  this 
old  fireside,  and  I  am  so  attached  to  it  that  I  keep  up 
a  blazing  fire  here  every  evening,  until  it  actually  grows 
too  hot  to  bear  it.  Why,  my  poor  old  mother,  here,  used 
to  sit  before  this  fireplace  upon  that  little  stool  when  she 
was  a  girl — didn't  you,  mother  ?  " 

The  tear  which  starts  unbidden  to  the  eye  when  the 
recollection  of  old  times  and  the  happiness  of  many 
years  ago  is  suddenly  recalled,  stole  down  the  old  lady's 
face,  as  she  shook  her  head  with  a  melancholy  smile. 

''You  must  excuse  my  talking  about  this  old  place, 
Mr.  Pickwick,"  resumed  the  host,  after  a  short  pause— 
"  for  I  love  it  dearly,  and  know  no  other — the  old  houses 
and  fields  seem  like  living  friends  to  me:  and  so  does 
our  little  church  with  the  ivy — about  which,  by-the-by, 
our  excellent  friend  there,  made  a  song  when  he  first 
came  amongst  us.  Mr.  Snodgrass,  have  you  anything 
in  your  glass?" 

"Plenty,  thank  you/'  replied  that  gentleman,  whose 


76 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


poetic  curiosity  had  been  greatly  excited  by  the  last  ob- 
servations of  his  entertainer.  I  beg  your  pardon,  but 
you  were  talking  about  the  song  of  the  Ivy.'^ 

You  must  ask  our  friend  opposite  about  that,"  said 
the  host,  knowingly:  indicating  the  clergyman  by  a  nod 
of  his  head. 

''May  I  say  that  I  should  like  to  hear  you  repeat  it, 
sir?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

''Why,  really,"  replied  the  clergyman,  "it's  a  very 
slight  affair;  anci  the  only  excuse  I  have  for  having  ever 
perpetrated  it  is,  that  I  was  a  young  man  at  the  time. 
Such  as  it  is,  however,  you  shall  hear  it  if  you  wish." 

A  murmur  of  curiosity  was  of  course  the  reply;  and 
the  old  gentleman  proceeded  to  recite,  with  the  aid  of 
sundry  promptings  from  his  wife,  the  lines  in  question. 
"  I  call  them,"  said  he, 

THE  IVY  GEEEN. 

Oh,  a  dainty  plant  is  the  Ivy  green, 

That  creepeth  o'er  ruins  old  ! 

Of  right  choice  food  are  his  meals  I  ween, 

In  his  cell  so  lone  and  cold. 

The  wall  must  be  crumbled,  the  stone  decayed, 

To  pleasure  his  dainty  whim: 

And  the  mouldering  dust  that  years  have  made, 

Is  a  merry  meal  for  him. 

Creeping  where  no  life  is  seen, 

A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

Fast  he  stealeth  on,  though  he  wears  no  wings, 

And  a  staunch  old  heart  has  he. 

How  closely  he  twineth,  how  tight  he  clings, 

To  his  friend  the  huge  Oak  Tree  ! 

And  slily  he  traileth  along  the  ground. 

And  his  leaves  he  gently  waves. 

As  he  joyously  hugs  and  crawleth  around 

The  rich  mould  ot  dead  men's  graves. 

Creeping  where  grim  death  has  been, 

A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

Whole  ages  have  fled  and  their  works  decayed, 

And  nations  have  scattered  been; 

But  the  stout  old  Ivy  shall  never  fade. 

From  its  hale  and  hearty  green. 

The  brave  old  plant,  in  its  lonely  days, 

Shall  fatten  upon  the  past: 

For  the  stateliest  building  man  can  raise. 

Is  the  Ivy's  food  at  last. 

Creeping  on,  where  time  has  been, 

A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


77 


While  the  old  gentleman  repeated  these  lines  a  second 
time,  to  enable  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  note  them  down,  Mr. 
Pickwick  perused  the  lineaments  of  his  face  with  an  ex- 
pression of  great  interest.  The  old  gentleman  having 
concluded  his  dictation,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  having  re- 
turned his  note-book  to  his  pocket,  Mr.  Pickwick 
said: 

''Excuse  me,  sir,  for  making  the  remark  on  so  short 
an  acquaintance;  but  a  gentleman  like  yourself  cannot 
fail,  I  should  think,  to  have  observed  many  scenes  and 
incidents  worth  recording,  in  the  course  of  your  experi- 
ence as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel." 

''I  have  witnessed  some,  certainly,"  replied  the  old 
gentleman;  "  but  the  incidents  and  characters  have  been 
of  a  homely  and  ordinary  nature,  my  sphere  of  action 
being  very  limited." 

''You  did  make  some  notes,  I  think,  about  John  Ed- 
munds, did  you  not?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle,  who  ap- 
peared desirous  to  draw  his  friend  out,  for  the  edification 
of  his  new  visitors. 

The  old  gentleman  slightly  nodded  his  head  in  token 
of  assent,  and  was  proceeding  to  change  the  subject, 
when  Mr.  Pickwick  said: 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir-  but  pray,  if  I  may  venture  to 
inquire,  who  was  John  Edmunds?" 

"  The  very  thing  I  was  about  to  ask,"  said  Mr  Snod- 
grass, eagerly. 

"  You  are  fairly  in  for  it,"  said  the  jolly  host.  ^'  You 
must  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  these  gentlemen,  sooner  or 
later;  so  you  had  better  take  advantage  of  this  favour- 
able opportunity,  and  do  so  at  once. 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  good-humouredly  as  he  drew 
his  chair  forward;  the  remainder  of  the  party  drew  their 
chairs  closer  together,  especially  Mr.  Tupman  and  the 
spinster  aunt,  who  were  possibly  rather  hard  of  hear- 
ing; and  the  old  lady's  ear-trumpet  having  been  duly 
adjusted,  and  Mr.  Miller  (who  had  fallen  asleep  during 
the  recital  of  the  verses)  roused  from  his  slumbers 
by  an  admonitory  pinch,  administered  beneath  the 
table  by  his  ex-partner,  the  solemn  fat  man,  the 
old  gentleman,  without  further  preface,  commenced 
the  following  tale,  to  which  we  take  the  liberty  of 
prefixing  the  title  of 


78  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

THE  convict's  RETURN. 

When  I  first  settled  in  this  village/'  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman^ ''which  is  now  just  five-and-twenty  years  ago, 
the  most  notorious  person  among  my  parishioners  was  a 
man  of  the  name  of  Edmunds,  who  leased  a  small  farm 
near  this  spot.  He  was  a  morose,  savage-hearted,  bad 
man:  idle  and  dissolute  in  his  habits;  cruel  and  fero- 
cious in  his  disposition.  Beyond  the  few  lazy  and  reck- 
less vagabonds  with  whom  he  sauntered  away  his  time 
in  the  fields,  or  sotted  in  the  ale-house,  he  had  not  a  sin- 
gle friend  or  acquaintance;  no  one  cared  to  speak  to  the 
man  whom  many  feared,  and  every  one  detested — and 
Edmunds  was  shunned  by  all. 

''  This  man  had  a  wife  and  one  son,  who,  when  I  first 
came  here,  was  about  twelve  years  old.  Of  the  acute- 
ness  of  that  woman's  sufferings,  of  the  gentle  and  en- 
during manner  in  which  she  bore  them,  of  the  agony  of 
solicitude  with  which  she  reared  that  boy,  no  one  can 
form  an  adequate  conception.  Heaven  forgive  me  the 
supposition,  if  it  be  an  uncharitable  one,  but  I  do  firmly 
in  my  soul  believe  that  the  man  systematically  tried  for 
many  years  to  break  her  heart;  but  she  bore  it  all  for 
her  child's  sake,  and,  however  strange  it  may  seem  to 
many,  for  his  father's  too;  for  brute  as  he  was  and 
cruelly  as  he  had  treated  her,  she  had  loved  him  once: 
and  the  recollection  of  what  he  had  been  to  her,  awak- 
ened feelings  of  forbearance  and  meekness  under  suf-' 
fering  in  her  bosom,  to  which  all  God's  creatures,  but 
women,  are  strangers. 

''  They  were  poor — they  could  not  be  otherwise  when 
the  man  pursued  such  courses;  but  the  woman's  unceas- 
ing and  unwearied  exertions,  early  and  late,  morning, 
noon,  and  night,  kept  them  above  actual  want.  Those 
exertions  were  but  ill  repaid.  People  who  passed  the 
spot  in  the  evening — sometimes  of  a  late  hour  of  the 
night — reported  that  they  had  heard  the  moans  and  sobs 
of  a  woman  in  distress,  and  the  sound  of  blows;  and 
more  than  once,  when  it  was  past  midnight,  the  boy 
knocked  softly  at  the  door  of  a  neighbour's  house, 
whither  he  had  been  sent  to  escape  the  drunken  fury  of 
his  unnatural  father. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  and  when  the  poor 
creature  often  bore  about  hermarks  of  ill-usage  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  79 

violence  which  she  could  not  wholly  conceal,  she  was  a 
constant  attendant  at  our  little  church.  Regularly  every 
Sundaj^,  morning  and  afternoon,  she  occupied  the  same 
seat  with  the  boy  at  her  side;  and  though  they  were  both 
poorly  dressed — much  more  so  than  many  of  their  neigh- 
bours who  were  in  a  lower  station — they  were  always 
neat  and  clean.  Every  one  had  a  friendly  nod  and  a 
kind  word  for  'poor  Mrs.  Edmunds;'  and  sometimes, 
when  she  stopped  to  exchange  a  few  words  with  a  neigh- 
bour at  the  conclusion  of  the  service,  in  the  little  row  of 
elm  trees  which  leads  to  the  church  porch,  or  lingered 
behind  to  gaze  with  a  mother's  pride  and  fondness  upon 
her  healthy  boy,  as  he  sported  before  her  with  some  lit- 
tle companions,  her  care-worn  face  would  lighten  up 
with  an  expression  of  heart-felt  gratitude ;  and  she 
would  look,  if  not  cheerful  and  happy,  at  least  tranquil 
and  contented. 

''Five  or  six  years  passed;  the  boy  had  become  a  ro- 
bust and  well-grown  youth.  The  time  that  had  strength- 
ened the  child's  slight  frame  and  knit  his  weak  limbs 
into  the  strength  of  manhood,  had  bowed  his  mother's 
form,  and  enfeebled  her  steps;  but  the  arm  that  should 
have  supported  her  was  no  longer  locked  in  hers;  the 
face  that  should  have  cheered  her,  no  more  looked  upon 
her  own.  She  occupied  her  old  seat,  but  there  was  a 
vacant  one  beside  her.  The  Bible  was  kept  as  carefully 
as  ever,  the  places  were  found  and  folded  down  as  they 
used  to  be;  but  there  was  no  one  to  read  it  with  her;  and 
the  tears  fell  thick  and  fast  upon  the  book,  and  blotted 
the  words  from  her  eyes.  Neighbours  were  as  kind  as 
they  were  wont  to  be  of  old,  but  she  shunned  their  greet- 
ings with  averted  head.  There  was  no  lingering  among 
the  old  elm  trees  now — no  cheering  anticipations  of  hap- 
piness yet  in  store.  The  desolate  woman  drew  her  bon- 
net closer  over  her  face  and  walked  hurriedly  away. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  that  the  young  man,  who,  looking 
back  to  the  earliest  of  his  childhood's  days  to  which 
memory  and  consciousness  extended,  and  carrying  his 
recollection  down  to  that  moment,  could  remember 
nothing  which  was  not  in  some  way  connected  with  a 
long  series  of  voluntary  privations  suffered  by  his 
mother  for  his  sake,  with  ill-usage,  and  insult,  and  vio- 
lence, and  all  endured  for  him — shall  I  tell  you  tliat  he, 
with  a  reckless  disregard  of  her  breaking  heart,  and  a 


80  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

sullen  wilful  f orgetf ulness  of  all  she  had  done  and  borne 
for  him,  had  linked  himself  with  depraved  and  aban- 
doned men,  and  was  madly  pursuing  a  headlong  career, 
which  must  bring  death  to  him,  and  shame  to  her  ?  Alas 
for  human  nature  !   You  have  anticipated  it  long  since. 

''The  measure  of  the  unhappy  woman's  misery  and 
misfortune  was  about  to  be  completed.  Numerous 
offences  had  been  committed  in  the  neighbourhood;  the 
perpetrators  remained  undiscovered,  and  their  boldness 
mcreased.  A  robbery  of  a  daring  and  aggravating 
nature  occasioned  a  vigilance  of  pursuit,  and  a  strict- 
ness of  search,  they  had  not  calculated  on.  Young 
Edmunds  was  suspected  with  three  companions.  He  was 
apprehended — committed — tried — condemned — to  die. 

*''The  wild  and  piercing  shriek  from  a  woman's  voice, 
which  resounded  through  the  court  when  the  solemn 
sentence  was  pronounced,  rings  in  my  ears  at  this 
moment.  That  cry  struck  terror  to  the  culprit's  heart, 
which  trial,  condemnation — the  approach  of  death  itself, 
had  failed  to  awaken.  The  lips  which  had  been  com- 
pressed in  dogged  sullenness  throughout,  quivered  and 
parted  involuntarily  ;  the  face  turned  ashy  pale  as  the 
cold  perspiration  broke  from  every  pore ;  the  sturdy 
limbs  of  the  felon  trembled,  and  he  staggered  in  the 
dock. 

''In  the  first  transports  of  her  mental  anguish,  the 
suffering  mother  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  at  my 
feet,  and  fervently  besought  the  Almighty  Being  who 
had  hitherto  supported  her  in  all  her  troubles,  to  release 
her  from  a  world  of  woe  and  misery,  and  to  spare  the 
life  of  her  only  child.  A  burst  of  grief,  and  a  violent 
struggle,  such  as  I  hope  I  may  never  have  to  witness 
again,  succeeded.  I  knew  that  her  heart  was  breaking 
from  that  hour ;  but  I  never  once  heard  complaint  or 
murmur  escape  her  lips. 

"  It  was  a  piteous  spectacle  to  see  that  woman  in  the 
prison  yard  from  day  to  day,  eagerly  and  fervently  at- 
tempting, by  affection  and  entreaty,  to  soften  the  hard 
heart  of  her  obdurate  son.  It  was  in  vain.  He  re- 
mained moody,  obstinate,  and  unmoved.  Not  even  the 
unlooked-for  commutation  of  his  sentence  to  transpor- 
tation for  fourteen  years  softened  for  an  instant  the 
sullen  hardihood  of  his  demeanour. 

"But,  the  spirit  of  resignation  and  endurance  that 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  81 


had  so  long  upheld  her,  was  unable  to  contend  against 
bodily  weakness  and  infirmity.  She  fell  sick.  She 
dragged  her  tottering  limbs  from  the  bed  to  visit  her  son 
once  more,  but  her  strength  failed  her,  and  she  sank 
powerless  on  the  ground. 

^'And  now  the  boasted  coldness  and  indifference  of 
the  young  man  were  tested  indeed  ;  and  the  retribution 
that  fell  heavily  upon  him,  nearly  drove  him  mad:  A 
day  passed  away  and  his  mother  was  not  there  ;  another 
flew  by,  and  she  came  not  near  him ;  a  third  evening 
arrived,  and  yet  he  had  not  seen  her  ;  aiid  in  f  our-and- 
twenty  hours,  he  was  to  be  separated  from  her — perhaps 
forever.  Oh !  how  the  long-forgotten  thoughts  of 
former  days  rushed  upon  his  mind,  as  he  almost  ran  up 
and  down  the  narrow  yard — as  if  intelligence  would  ar- 
rive the  sooner  for  his  hurrying — and  how  bitterly  a  sense 
of  his  helplessness  and  desolation  rushed  upon  him, 
when  he  heard  the  truth  !  His  mother,  the  only  parent 
he  had  ever  known,  lay  ill — it  might  be,  djing — within 
one  mile  of  the  ground  he  stood  on  ;  were  he  free  and 
unfettered,  a  few  minutes  would  place  him  by  her  side. 
He  rushed  to  the  gate,  and  grasping  the  iron  rails  with 
the  energy  of  desperation,  shook  it  until  it  rang  again, 
and  threw  himself  against  the  thick  wall  as  if  to  force  a 
passage  through  the  stone ;  but  the  strong  building 
mocked  his  feeble  efforts,  and  he  beat  his  hands  together 
and  wept  like  a  child. 

''I  bore  the  mother's  forgiveness  and  blessing  to  her 
son  in  prison  ;  and  I  carried  his  solemn  assurance  of  re- 
pentance, and  his  fervent  supplication  for  pardon,  to  her 
sick-bed.  I  heard,  with  pity  and  compassion,  the  re- 
pentant man  devise  a  thousand  little  plans  for  her  com- 
fort and  support,  when  he  returned ;  but  I  knew  that, 
many  months  before  he  could  reach  his  place  of  destina- 
tion, his  mother  would  be  no  longer  in  this  world. 

"  He  was  removed  by  night.  A  few  weeks  after- 
wards the  poor  woman's  soul  took  its  flight,  I  confi- 
dently hope,  and  solemnly  believe,  to  a  place  of  eternal 
happiness  and  rest.  I  performed  the  burial  service  over 
her  remains.  She  lies  in  our  little  churchyard.  There 
is  no  stone  at  her  grave's  head.  Her  sorrows  were 
known  to  man;  her  virtues  to  God. 

It  had  been  arranged,  previouslj^  to  the  convict's  de- 
parture, that  he  should  write  to  his  mother  so  soon  ns 


82  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


he  could  obtain  permission,  and  that  the  letter  should 
be  addressed  to  me.  The  father  had  positively  refused 
to  see  his  son  from  the  moment  of  his  apprehension  • 
and  it  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  whether  he 
lived  or  died.  Many  years  passed  over  without  any  in- 
telligence of  him  ;  and  when  more  than  half  his  term  of 
transportation  had  expired,  and  I  had  received  no  letter, 
I  concluded  him  to  be  dead,  as,  indeed,  I  almost  hoped 
he  might  be. 

'•Edmunds,  however,  had  been  sent  a  considerable 
distance  up  the  country  on  his  arrival  at  the  settlement; 
and  to  this  circumstance,  perhaps,  may  be  attributed 
the  fact  that,  though  several  letters  were  despatched, 
none  of  them  ever  reached  my  hands.  He  remained  in 
the  same  place  during  the  whole  fourteen  years.  At 
the  expiration  of  the  term,  steadily  adhering  to  his  old 
resolution  and  the  pledge  he  gave  his  mother,  he  made 
his  wa.y  back  to  England  amidst  innumerable  difficul- 
ties, and  returned,  on  foot,  to  his  native  place. 

On  a  fine  Sunday  evening,  in  the  month  of  August, 
John  Edmunds  set  foot  in  the  village  he  had  left  with 
shame  and  disgrace  seventeen  years  before.  His  nearest 
way  lay  through  the  churchyard.  The  man's  heart 
swelled  as  he  crossed  the  stile.  The  tall  old  elms, 
through  whose  branches  the  declining  sun  cast  here  and 
there  a  rich  ray  of  light  upon  the  shady  path,  av/akened 
the  associations  of  his  earliest  days.  He  pictured  him- 
self as  he  was  then,  clinging  to  his  mother's  hand,  and 
walking  peacefully  to  church.  He  remembered  how  he 
used  to  look  up  into  her  pale  face ;  and  how  her  eyes 
would  sometimes  fill  with  tears  as  she  gazed  upon  his 
features — tears  which  fell  hot  upon  his  forehead  as  she 
stooped  to  kiss  him,  and  made  him  weep  too,  although 
he  little  knew  then  what  bitter  tears  hers  were.  He 
thought  how  often  he  had  run  merrily  down  that  path 
with  some  childish  playfellow,  looking  back,  ever  and 
again,  to  catch  his  mother's  smile,  or  hear  her  gentle 
voice  ;  and  then  a  veil  seemed  lifted  from  his  memory, 
and  words  of  kindness  unrequited,  and  warnings  de- 
spised, and  promises  broken,  thronged  upon  his  recol- 
lection till  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  could  bear  it  no 
longer. 

He  entered  the  church.  The  evening  service  was 
concluded,  and  the  cong^reg-ation  had  dispersed,  but  it 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


83 


was  not  yet  closed.  His  steps  echoed  through  the  low 
building  with  a  hollow  sound,  and  he  almost  feared  to 
be  alone,  it  was  so  still  and  quiet.  He  looked  round 
him.  Nothing  was  changed.  The  place  seemed  smaller 
than  it  used  to  be,  but  there  were  the  old  monuments 
on  which  he  had  gazed  with  childish  awe  a  thousand 
times ;  the  little  pulpit  with  its  faded  cushion;  the 
Communion-table  before  which  he  had  so  often  repeated 
the  Commandments  he  had  reverenced  as  a  child,  and 
forgotten  as  a  man.  He  approached  the  old  seat ;  it 
looked  cold  and  desolate.  The  cushion  had  been  re- 
moved, and  the  Bible  was  not  there.  Perhaps  his  mother 
now  occupied  a  poorer  seat,  or  possibly  she  had  grown 
infirm  and  could  not  reach  the  church  alone.  He  dared 
not  think  of  what  he  feared.  A  cold  feeling  crept  over 
him;  and  he  trembled  violently  as  he  turned  away. 

An  old  man  entered  the  porch  just  as  he  reached  it. 
Edmunds  started  back,  for  he  knew  him  well ;  many  a 
time  he  had  watched  him  digging  graves  in  the  church- 
yard.   What  would  he  say  to  the  returned  convict  ? 

"  The  old  man  raised  his  eyes  to  the  stranger's  face, 
bid  him  '  Good  evening,'  and  walked  slowly  on.  He 
had  forgotten  him. 

"  He  walked  down  the  hill  and  through  the  village. 
The  weather  was  warm,  and  the  people  were  sitting  at 
their  doors,  or  strolling  in  their  little  gardens,  as  he 
passed,  enjoying  the  serenity  of  the  evening,  and  their 
rest  from  labor.  Many  a  look  was  turned  towards  him, 
and  many  a  doubtful  glance  he  cast  on  either  side,  to 
see  whether  any  knew  and  shunned  him.  There  were 
strange  faces  in  almost  every  house  ;  in  some  he  recog- 
nized the  burly  form  of  some  old  schoolfellow — a  boy 
when  he  last  saw  him — surrounded  by  a  troop  of  merry 
children  ;  in  others  he  saw,  seated  in  an  easy-chair,  at 
a  cottage  door,  a  feeble  and  infirm  old  man,  whom  he 
only  remembered  as  a  hale  and  hearty  labourer  ;  but 
they  had  all  forgotten  him,  and  he  passed  on  unknown. 

''The  last  soft  light  of  the  setting  sun  had  fallen  on 
the  earth,  casting  a  rich  glow  on  the  yellow  corn  sheaves, 
and  lengthening  the  shadows  of  the  orchard  trees,  as  he 
stood  before  the  old  house — the  home  of  his  infancy— to 
which  his  heart  had  yearned  with  an  intensity  of  affec- 
tion not  to  be  described,  tlirough  long  and  weary  years 
of  captivity  and  sorrow.    The  paling  was  low,  though 


84  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


he  well  remembered  the  time  when  it  had  seemed  a  high 
wall  to  him:  and  he  looked  over  into  the  old  garden. 
There  were  more  seeds  and  gayer  flowers  than  there 
used  to  be,  but  there  were  the  old  trees  still — the  very 
tree  under  which  he  had  lain  a  thousand  times  when 
tired  of  playing  in  the  sun,  and  felt  the  soft,  mild  sleep 
of  happy  boyhood  steal  gently  upon  him.  There  were 
voices  within  the  house.  He  listened,  but  they  fell 
strangely  upon  his  ear;  he  knew  them  not.  They  were 
merry,  too;  and  he  well  knew  that  his  poor,  old  mother 
could  not  be  cheerful,  and  he  away.  The  door  opened, 
and  a  group  of  little  children  bounded  out,  shouting  and 
romping.  The  father,  with  a  little  boy  in  his  arms, 
appeared  at  the  door,  and  they  crowded  round  him, 
clapping  their  tiny  hands,  and  dragging  him  out,  to  join 
their  joyous  sports.  The  convict  thought  on  the  many 
times  he  had  shrunk  from  his  father's  sight  in  that  very 
place.  He  remembered  how  often  he  had  buried  his 
trembling  headi  beneath  the  bed-clothes,  and  heard 
the  harsh  word,  and  the  hard  stripe,  and  his ,  mother's 
wailing;  and  though  the  man  sobbed  aloud  with 
agony  of  mind  as  he  left  the  spot,  his  fist  was 
clenched,  and  his  teeth  were  set,  in  fierce  and  deadly 
passion. 

''And  such  was  the  return  to  which  he  had  looked 
through  the  weary  perspective  of  many  years,  and 
for  which  he  had  undergone  so  much  suffering!  jSTo 
face  of  welcome,  no  look  of  forgiveness,  no  house  to 
receive,  no  hand  to  help  him — and  this,  too,  in  the  old 
village.  What  was  his  loneliness  in  the  wild,  thick 
woods,  where  man  was  never  seen,  to  this! 

"  He  felt  that  in  the  distant  land  of  his  bondage  and 
V  infamy,  he  had  thought  of  his  native  place  as  it  was 
when  he  left  it:  not  as  it  would  be,  when  he  returned. 
The  sad  reality  struck  coldly  at  his  heart,  and  his  spirits 
sank  within  him.  He  had  not  courage  to  make  inquiries,, 
or  to  present  himself  to  the  only  person  who  was  likely 
to  receive  him  with  kindness  and  compassion.  He 
walked  slowly  on,  and  shunning  the  roadside,  like  a 
guilty  man,  turned  into  a  meadow  he  well  remembered, 
and,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  threw  himself 
upon  the  grass. 

He  had  not  observed  that  a  man  was  lying  on  the 
bank  beside  him;  his  garments  rustled  as  he  turned 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


85 


round  to  steal  a  look  at  the  new-comer;  and  Edmunds 
raised  his  head. 

''The  man  had  moved  into  a  sitting  posture.  His 
body  was  much  bent,  and  his  face  was  wrinkled  and 
yellow.  His  dress  denoted  him  an  inmate  of  the  work- 
house: he  had  the  appearance  of  being  very  old,  but  it 
looked  more  the  effect  of  dissipation  or  disease  than 
length  of  years.  He  was  staring  hard  at  the  stranger, 
and  though  his  eyes  were  lustreless  and  heavy  at  first, 
they  appeared  to  glow  with  an  unnatural  and  alarmed 
expression  after  they  had  been  fixed  upon  him  for  a 
short  time,  until  they  seemed  to  be  starting  from  their 
sockets.  Edmunds  gradually  raised  himself  to  his  knees, 
and  looked  more  and  more  earnestly  upon  the  old  man's 
face.    They  gazed  upon  each  other  in  silence. 

"  The  old  man  was  ghastly  pale.  He  shuddered  and 
tottered  to  his  feet.  Edmunds  sprang  to  his.  He 
stepped  back  a  pace  or  two.    Edmunds  advanced. 

'''Let  me  hear  you  speak/  said  the  convict,  in  a 
thick,  broken  voice. 

'"Stand  off !'  cried  the  old  man,  with  a  dreadful  oath. 
The  convict  drew  closer  to  him. 

'"Stand  off!'  shrieked  the  old  man.  Furious  with 
terror,  he  raised  his  stick,  and  struck  Edmunds  a  heavy 
blow  across  the  face. 

"  'Father — devil!'  murmured  the  convict,  between  his 
set  teeth.  He  rushed  wildly  forward,  and  clenched  the 
old  man  by  the  throat — but  he  was  his  father;  and  his 
arm  fell  powerless  by  his  side. 

"  The  old  man  uttered  a  loud  yell,  which  rang  through 
the  lonely  fields  like  the  howl  of  an  evil  spirit.  His  face 
turned  black:  the  gore  rushed  from  his  mouth  and  nose, 
and  dyed  the  grass  a  deep  dark  red,  as  he  staggered  and 
fell.  He  had  ruptured  a  blood-vessel;  and  he  was  a  dead 
man  before  his  son  could  raise  him. 

"In  that  corner  of  the  churchyard,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  after  a  silence  of  a  few  moments,  "  in  that 
corner  of  the  churchyard  of  which  I  have  before  spoken, 
there  lies  buried  a  man,  who  was  in  my  employment 
for  three  years  after  this  event:  and  who  was  truly  con- 
trite, penitent,  and  humbled,  if  ever  man  was.    No  one 


86  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

save  myself  knew  in  that  man's  lifetime  who  he  was  or 
whence  he  came — it  was  John  Edmunds,  the  returned 
convict." 


CHAPTER  VII.  . 

HOW  MR.  WINKLE,  INSTEAD  OF  SHOOTING  AT  THE  PIGEON 
AND  KILLING  THE  CROW,  SHOT  AT  THE  CROW  AND 
WOUNDED  THE  PIGEON;  HOW  THE  DINGLEY  DELL  CRICKET 
CLUB  PLAYED  ALL  MUGGLETON,  AND  HOW  ALL  MUGGLE- 
TON  DINED  AT  THE  DINGLEY  DELL  EXPENSE:  WITH  OTHER 
INTERESTING  AND  INSTRUCTIVE  MATTERS. 

The  fatiguing  adventures  of  the  day,  or  the  som- 
niferous influence  of  the  clergyman's  tale,  operated  so 
strongly  on  the  drowsy  tendencies  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  that 
in  less  than  five  minutes  after  he  had  been  shown  to  his 
comfortable  bed-room,  he  fell  into  a  sound  and  dreamless 
sleep,  from  which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the  morn- 
ing sun  darting  his  bright  beams  reproachfully  into  the 
apartment.  Mr.  Pickvdck  was  no  sluggard;  and  he 
sprang  like  an  ardent  warrior  from  his  tent — bedstead. 

Pleasant,  pleasant  country,"  sighed  the  enthusiastic 
gentleman,  as  he  opened  his  lattice  window.  ''Who 
could  live  to  gaze  from  day  to  day  on  bricks  and  slates, 
who  had  once  felt  the  influence  of  a  scene  like  this?  Who 
could  continue  to  exist,  where  there  are  no  cows  but  the 
cows  on  the  chimney  pots;  nothing  redolent  of  Pan  but 
pan-tiles;  no  crop  but  stone  crop?  Who  could  bear  to 
drag  out  a  life  in  such  a  spot?  Who  I  ask  could  endure 
it?"  and,  having  cross-examined  solitude  after  the  most 
approved  precedents,  at  considerable  length,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick thrust  his  head  out  of  the  lattice,  and  looked  around 
him. 

The  rich,  sweet  smell  of  the  hay-ricks  rose  to  his 
chamber  window;  the  hundred  perfumes  of  the  little 
flower-garden  beneath  scented  the  air  around;  the  deep- 
green  meadows  shone  in  the  morning  dew  that  glistened 
on  every  leaf  as  it  trembled  in  the  gentle  air;  and  the 
birds  sang  as  if  every  sparkling  drop  were  a  fountain 
of  inspiration  to  them.  Mr.  Pickwick  fell  into  an 
enchanting  and  delicious  reverie. 

''Hallo!"  was  the  sound  that  roused  him. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  87 

He  looked  to  the  right,  but  he  saw  nobody;  his  eyes 
wandered  to  the  left,  and  pierced  the  prospect;  he  stared 
into  the  sky,  but  he  wasn't  wanted  there;  and  then 
he  did  what  a  common  mind  would  have  done  at 
once — looked  into  the  garden,  and  there  saw  Mr. 
VYardle. 

How  are  you? "  said  that  good-humoured  individual, 
out  of  breath  with  his  own  anticipations  of  pleasure. 
''Beautiful  morning,  ain't  it?  Glad  to  see  you  up  so 
early.  Make  haste  down,  and  come  out.  I'll  wait  for 
you  here." 

Mr.  Pickwick  needed  no  second  invitation.  Ten  min- 
utes sufficed  for  the  completion  of  his  toilet,  and  at  the 
expiration  of  that  time  he  was  by  the  old  gentleman's 
side. 

''Hallo!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  turn:  seeing  that 
his  companion  was  armed  with  a  gun,  and  that  another 
lay  ready  on  the  grass.    "What's  going  forward?" 

"Why,  your  friend  and  I,"  replied  the  host,  '^  are 
going  out  rook-shooting  before  breakfast.  He's  a  very 
good  shot,  ain't  he? " 

"  I've  heard  him  say  he's  a  capital  one,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick;  "but  I  never  saw  him  aim  at  anything." 

"  Well,"  said  the  host,  "  I  wish  he'd  come.  Joe — Joel" 

The  fat  boy,  who  under  the  exciting  influence  of  the 
morning  did  not  appear  to  be  more  than  three  parts  and 
a  fraction  asleep,  emerged  from  the  house. 

"Go  up,  and  call  the  gentleman,  and  tell  him  hell 
find  me  and  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  rookery.  Show  the 
gentleman  the  way  there;  d'ye  hear?" 

The  boy  started  to  execute  his  commission;  and  the 
host,  carrying  both  guns  like  a  second  Robinson  Crusoe, 
led  the  way  from  the  garden. 

"This  is  the  place,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  pausing 
after  a  few  minutes'  walking,  in  an  avenue  of  trees. 
The  information  was  unnecessary;  for  the  incessant 
cawing  of  the  unconscious  rooks  sufficiently  indicated 
their  whereabouts. 

The  old  gentleman  laid  one  gun  on  the  ground,  and 
loaded  the  other. 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  as  he  spoke, 
the  forms  of  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Mr.  Win- 
kle appeared  in  the  distance.  The  fat  boy,  not  beiug 
quite  certain  which  gentleman  he  was  directed  to  call. 


88  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

had  with  peculiar  sagacity,  and  to  prevent  the  possi- 
bility of  any  mistake,  called  them  all. 

Come  along,"  shouted  the  old  gentleman,  addressing 
Mr.  Winkle,  "  a  keen  hand  like  you  ought  to  have  been 
up  long  ago,  even  to  such  poor  work  as  this." 

Mr.  Winkle  responded  with  a  forced  smile,  and  took 
up  the  spare  gun  with  an  expression  of  countenance 
which  a  metaphysical  rook,  impressed  with  a  foreboding 
of  his  approaching  death  by  violence,  may  be  supposed 
to  assume.  It  might  have  been  keenness,  but  it  looked 
remarkably  like  misery. 

The  old  gentleman  nodded;  and  two  ragged  boys  who 
had  been  marshalled  to  the  spot  under  the  direction  of 
the  infant  Lambert,  forthwith  commenced  climbing  up 
two  of  the  trees. 

/'What  are  those  lads  for?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick 
abruptly.  He  was  rather  alarmed;  for  he  was  not  quite 
certain  but  that  the  distress  of  the  agricultural  interest, 
about  which  he  had  often  heard  a  great  deal,  might  have 
compelled  the  small  boys  attachea  to  the  soil,  to  earn  a 
precarious  and  hazardous  subsistence  by  making  marks 
of  themselves  for  inexperienced  sportsmen. 

"  Only  to  start  the  game,"  replied  Mr.  Wardle,laughing. 

^'To  what?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Why,  in  plain  English,  to  frighten  the  rooks." 

"Oh!   Is  that  all?" 

"You  are  satisfied?" 

"Quite." 

"  Very  well.    Shall  I  begin  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  glad  of  any  respite. 

"Stand  aside,  then.    Njow  for  it." 

The  boy  shouted,  and  shook  a  branch  with  a  nest  on 
it.  Half  a  dozen  young  rooks  in  violent  conversation, 
flew  out  to  ask  what  the  matter  was.  The  old  gentle- 
man fired  by  way  of  reply.  Down  fell  one  bird,  and  off 
flew  the  others. 

"  Take  him  up,  Joe,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

There  was  a  smile  on  the  youth's  face  as  he  advanced. 
Indistinct  visions  of  rook-pie  floated  through  his  imag- 
ination. He  laughed  as  he  retired  with  the  bird — it  was 
a  plump  one. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  the  host,  reloading  his  own 
gun,  "Fire  away." 
Mr.  Winkle  advanced,  and  leveled  his  gun.    Mr.  Pick- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


89 


wick  and  his  friends  cowered  involuntarily  to  escape 
damage  from  the  heavy  fall  of  rooks,  which  they  felt 
quite  certain  would  be  occasioned  by  the  devastating 
barrel  of  their  friend.    There  was  a  solemn  pause — a 
shout — a  flapping  of  wings— a  faint  click. 
Hallo  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 
"  Won't  it  go  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Missed  fire,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  very  pale: 
probably  from  disappointment. 

"  Odd/'  said  the  old  gentleman,  taking  the  gun. 
Never  knew  one  of  them  miss  fire  before.    Why,  I 
don't  see  anything  of  the  cap  !" 

Bless  my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  I  declare  I  for- 
got the  cap !" 

The  slight  omission  was  rectified.  Mr.  Pickwick 
crouched  again.  Mr.  Winkle  stepped  forward  with  an 
air  of  determination  and  resolution  ;  and  Mr.  Tupman 
looked  out  from  behind  a  tree.  The  boy  shouted — four 
birds  flew  out.  Mr.  Winkle  fired.  There  was  a  scream 
as  of  an  individual — not  a  rook — in  corporeal  anguish. 
Mr.  Tupman  had  saved  the  lives  of  innumerable  un- 
offending birds  by  receiving  a  portion  of  the  charge  in  his 
left  arm. 

To  describe  the  confusion  that  ensued  would  be  impos- 
sible. To  tell  how  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  first  transports 
of  his  emotion  called  Mr.  Winkle  "  Wretch  !  "  how  Mr. 
Tupman  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground  ;  and  how  Mr.  Win- 
kle knelt  horror-stricken  beside  him  ;  how  Mr.  Tupman 
called  distractedly  upon  some  feminine  Christian  nam.e, 
and  then  opened  first  one  eye,  and  then  the  other,  and 
then  fell  back  and  shut  them  both — all  this  would  be 
as  difficult  to  describe  in  detail,  as  it  would  be  to  de- 
pict the  gradual  recovering  of  the  unfortunate  individual, 
the  binding  up  of  his  arm  with  pocket-handkerchiefs, 
and  the  conveying  him  back  by  slow  degrees  supported 
by  the  arms  of  his  anxious  friends. 

They  drew  near  the  house.  The  ladies  were  at  the 
garden-gate,  waiting  for  their  arrival  and  their  break- 
fast. The  spinster  aunt  appeared;  she  smiled,  and  beck- 
oned them  to  walk  quicker.  'Twas  evident  she  knew 
not  of  the  disaster.  Poor  thing  !  There  are  times  when 
ignorance  is  bliss  indeed. 

They  approached  nearer. 
Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  little  old  gentle- 


9«  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

man  ?"  said  Isabella  Wardle.  The  spinster  aunt  heeded 
not  the  remark  ;  she  thought  it  applied  to  Mr.  Pickwick. 
In  her  eyes  Tracy  Tupman  was  a  youth;  she  viewed  his 
years  through  a  diminishing  glass. 

"  Don't  be  frightened/'  called  out  the  old  host,  fearful 
of  alarming  his  daughters.  The  little  party  had  crowded 
so  completely  round  Mr.  Tupman,  that  they  could  not 
yet  clearly  discern  the  nature  of  the  accident. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  the  host. 

''What  is  the  matter  ?"  screamed  the  ladies. 

''Mr.  Tupman  has  met  with  a  little  accident;  that's 
all." 

The  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  piercing  scream,  burst  into 
an  hysteric  laugh,  and  fell  backwards  in  the  arms  of 
her  nieces. 

"  Throve  some  cold  water  over  her,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. 

"  No,  no,"  murmured  the  spinster  aunt ;  "  I  am  better 
now.  Bella,  Emily — a  surgeon  !  Is  he  wounded  ? — Is 
he  dead  ? — Is  he — ha,  ha,  ha  !"  Here  the  spinster  aunt 
burst  into  fit  number  two,  of  hysteric  laughter,  inter- 
spersed with  screams. 

"  Calm  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  affected  almost 
to  tears  by  this  expression  of  sympathy  with  his  suffer- 
ings.   "  Dear,  dear  madam,  calm  yourself." 

"It  is  his  voice!"  exclaimed  the  spinster  aunt;  and 
strong  symptoms  of  fit  number  three  developed  them- 
selves forthwith. 

"Do  not  agitate  yourself,  I  entreat  you,  dearest 
madam,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  soothingly;  "  I  am  very  lit- 
tle hurt,  I  assure  you." 

"Then  you  are  not  dead  !"  ejaculated  the  hysterical 
lady.    "  Oh,  say  you  are  not  dead  !" 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Rachael,"  interposed  Mr.  Wardle, 
rather  more  roughly  than  was  quite  consistent  with  the 
poetic  nature  of  the  scene.  "  What  the  devil's  the  use  of 
his  saying  he  isn't  dead  ?" 

"  No,  no,  I  am  not,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  "  I  require 
no  assistance  but  yours.  Let  me  lean  on  your  arm."  He 
added,  in  a  whisper,  "  Oh  Miss  Rachael."  The  agitated 
female  advanced,  and  offered  her  arm.  They  turned 
into  the  breakfast  parlour.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  gent- 
ly pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips^  and  sank  upon  the 
sofa. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  91 

'•Are  you  faint     inquired  the  anxious  Rachael. 

'"  ISro."  said  Mr.  Tupman.  It  is  nothing.  I  shall  be 
better  presently."    He  closed  his  eyes. 

' "  He  sleeps, "  murmured  the  spinster  aunt.  (His  organs 
of  vision  had  been  closed  nearly  twenty  seconds.)  '"Dear 
— dear— Mr.  Tupman  !" 

Mr.  Tupman  jumped  up — ''Oh,  say  those  words  again!" 
he  exclaimed. 

The  lady  started.  Surely  you  did  not  hear  them  I" 
she  said,  bashfully. 

''Oh  yes  I  did!"  replied  Mr.  Tupman;  ''repeat  them. 
If  you  would  have  me  recover,  repeat  them." 

'^-  Hush!"  said  the  lady.    "  My  brother." 

Mr. Tracy  Tupman  resumed  his  former  position;  and 
Mr.  Mr.  Wardle  accompanied  by  a  surgeon  entered  the 
room. 

The  arm  was  examined,  the  wound  dressed,  and  pro- 
nounced to  be  a  very  slight  one;  and  the  minds  of  the 
company  having  been  thus  satisfied,  they  proceeded  to 
satisfy  their  appetites,  with  countenances  to  which  an 
expression  of  cheerfulness  was  again  restored.  Mr. 
Pickwick  alone  was  silent  and  reserved.  Doubt  and 
distrust  were  exhibited  in  his  countenance.  His  con- 
fidence in  Mr.  Winkle  had  been  shaken — greatly  shaken 
— by  the  proceedings  of  the  morning. 

"Are  you  a  cricketer?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  of  the 
marksman. 

At  any  other  time,  Mr.  Winkle  would  have  replied  in 
the  affirmative.  He  felt  the  delicacy  of  his  situation, 
and  modestly  replied,  "No." 

"Are  you,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"I  was  once  upon  a  time,"  replied  the  host;  "but  I 
liave  given  it  up  now.  I  subscribe  to  the  club  here,  but 
I  don't  play." 

"The  grand  match  is  played  to-day,  I  believe,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"It  is,"  replied  the  host.  "Of  course  you  would  like 
to  see  it." 

"  I,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  am  delighted  to  view 
any  sports  which  may  be  safely  indulged  in,  and  in 
which  the  impotent  effects  of  unskilful  people  do  not 
endanger  human  life."  Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and 
looked  steadily  on  Mr.  Winkle,  who  quailed  beneatli 
hia  leader's  searching  glance.     The  great  man  with- 


93 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


drew  his  eyes  after  a  few  minutes,  and  added:  Shall 
we  be  justified  in  leaving  our  wounded  friend  to  the 
care  of  the  ladies  ?" 

*'You  cannot  leave  me  in  better  hands/'  said  Mr. 
Tupman. 

''Quite  impossible/'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

It  was  therefore  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman  should  be 
left  at  home  in  charge  of  the  females;  and  that  the  re- 
mainder of  the  guests  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Wardle 
should  proceed  to  the  spot,  where  was  to  be  held  that 
trial  of  skill  which  had  roused  all  Muggleton  from  its 
torpor,  and  inoculated  Dingley  Dell  with  a  fever  of 
excitement. 

As  their  v/alk,  w^hich  was  not  above  two  miles  long, 
lay  through  shady  lanes,  and  sequestered  footpaths;  and 
as  their  conversation  turned  upon  the  delightful  scenery 
by  which  they  were  on  every  side  surrounded,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  almost  inclined  to  regret  the  expedition  they 
had  used,  when  he  found  himself  in  the  main  street  of 
the  town  of  Muggleton. 

Everybody  v/hose  genius  has  a  topographical  bent, 
knows  perfectly  well  that  Muggleton  is  a  corporate 
town,  with  a  mayor,  burgesses,  and  freemen;  and  any- 
body who  has  consulted  the  addresses  of  the  mayor  to 
the  freemen,  or  the  freemen  to  the  mayor,  or  both  to  the 
corporation,  or  all  three  to  parliament,  will  learn  from 
thence  what  they  ought  to  have  known  before,  that 
Muggleton  is  an  ancient  and  loyal  borough,  mingling 
a  zealous  advocacy  of  Christian  principles  with  a  de- 
voted attachment  to  commercial  rights;  in  demonstra- 
tion whereof,  the  mayor,  corporation,  and  other  inhab- 
itants, have  presented  at  divers  times,  no  fewer  than 
one  thousand  four .  hundred  and  twenty  petitions 
against  the  continuance  of  negro  slavery  abroad,  and 
an  equal  number  against  any  interference  with  the  fac- 
tory system  at  home;  sixty -eight  in  favor  of  the  sale  of 
livings  in  the  church,  and  eighty -six  for  abolishing  Sun- 
day trading  in  the  streets. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  in  the  principal  street  of  this  illus- 
trious town,  and  gazed  with  an  air  of  curiosity  not  un- 
mixed with  interest,  on  the  objects  around  him.  There 
was  an  open  square  for  the  market-place;  and  in  the 
centre  of  it,  a  large  inn  with  a  sign-post  in  front,  dis- 
playing an  object  very  common  in  art,  but  rarely  met 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  93 

with  in  nature — to  wit,  a  blue  lion  with  three  bow  legs 
in  the  air,  balancing  himself  on  the  extreme  point  of  the 
centre  cla*v  of  his  fourth  foot.  There  v/ere,  within 
sight,  an  auctioneer's  and  fire-agency  office,  a  corn- 
factor's,  a  linen-draper's,  a  saddlers,  a  distiller's,  a  gro- 
cer's, and  a  shoe  shop — the  last-mentioned  warehouse 
being  also  appropriated  to  the  diffusion  of  hats,  bon- 
nets, wearing  apparel,  cotton  umbrellas,  and  useful 
knowledge.  There  was  a  red  brick  house  with  a  small 
paved  court-yard  in  front,  w^liich  anybody  might  have 
known  belonged  to  the  attorney;  and  there  was,  more- 
over, another  red  brick  house  with  Venetian  blinds,  and 
a  large  brass  door-plate,  with  a  very  legible  announce- 
ment that  it  belonged  to  the  surgeon.  A  few  boys  were 
making  their  vvay  to  the  cricket-field;  and  two  or  three 
shopkeepers  who  were  standing  at  their  doors,  looked 
as  if  they  should  like  to  be  making  their  way  to  the 
same  spot,  as  indeed  to  all  appearance  they  might  have 
done,  without  losing  any  great  amount  of  custom  there- 
by. Mr.  Pickwick  having  paused  to  make  these  obser- 
vations, to  be  noted  down  at  a  more  convenient  period, 
hastened  to  rejoin  his  friends,  who  had  turned  out  of 
the  main  street,  and  were  already  within  sight  of  the 
field  of  battle. 

The  wickets  were  pitched,  and  so  were  a  couple  of 
marquees  for  the  rest  and  refreshment  of  the  contend- 
ing parties.  The  game  had  not  yet  commenced.  Two  or 
three  Dingley  Dellers,  and  AU-Muggletonians,  were 
amusing  themselves  with  a  majestic  air  by  throwing 
the  ball  carelessly  from  hand  to  hand;  and  several  other 
gentlemen  dressed  just  like  them,  in  straw  hats,  flannel 
jackets,  and  white  trowsers — a  costume  in  which  they 
looked  very  much  like  amateur  stone-masons — were 
sprinkled  about  the  tents,  towards  one  of  which  Mr. 
Wardle  conducted  the  party. 

Several  dozen  of  ''How-are-you's?"  hailed  the  old  gen- 
tleman's arrival;  and  a  general  raising  of  the  straw  hats, 
and  bending  forward  of  .the  flannel  jackets,  followed  his 
introduction  of  his  guests  as  gentlemen  from  London, 
who  were  extremely  anxious  to  witness  the  proceedings 
of  the  day,  with  which,  he  had  no  doubt,  they  would  be 
greatly  delighted. 

""  You  had  better  step  into  the  marquee,  I  think,  sir," 
said  one  very  stout  gentleman,  whose  body  and  legs 


94  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

looked  like  half  a  gigantic  roll  of  flannel,  elevated  on  a 
couple  of  inflated  pillow-cases. 

'^You'll  find  it  much  pleasanter,  sir,"  urged  another 
stout  gentleman,  who  strongly  resembled  the  other  half 
of  the  roll  of  flannel  aforesaid. 

''You're  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''This  way,"  said  the  first  speaker;  "they  notch  in 
here — it's  the  best  place  in  the  whole  field;"  and  the 
cricketer,  panting  on  before,  preceded  them  to  the 
tent. 

"Capital  game — smart  sport — fine  exercise — very," 
were  the  words  which  fell  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  ear  as 
he  entered  the  tent;  and  the  first  object  that  met  his 
eyes,  was  his  green-coated  friend  of  the  Rochester  coach, 
holding  forth,  to  the  no  small  delight  and  edification  of 
a  select  circle  of  the  chosen  of  All-Muggleton.  His 
dress  was  slightly  improved,  and  he  wore  boots;  but 
there  was  no  mistaking  him. 

The  stranger  recognised  his  friends  immediately,  and, 
darting  forward  and  seizing  Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  hand, 
dragged  him  to  a  seat,  with  his  usual  impetuosity,  talk- 
ing all  the  while,  as  if  the  whole  of  the  arrangements 
were  under  his  especial  patronage  and  direction. 

"  This  way — this  way — capital  fun — lots  of  beer — hogs- 
heads; rounds  of  beer — bullock;  mustard — cart  loads; 
glorious  day — down  with  j^ou — make  yourself  at  home 
— glad  to  see  you — very." 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  as  he  was  bid,  and  Mr.  Win- 
kle and  Mr.  Snodgrass  also  complied  with  the  directions 
of  their  mysterious  friend.  Mr.  Wardle  looked  on,  in 
silent  wonder. 

"  Mr.  Wardle— a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Friend  of  yours!  My  dear  sir,  how  are  you? — Friend 
of  my  friend's — give  me  your  hand,  sir  " — and  the  stran- 
ger grasped  Mr.  Wardle's  hand  with  all  the  fervour  of 
a  close  intimacy  of  many  years,  and  then  stepped  back 
a  pace  or  two,  as  if  to  take  a  full  survey  of  his  face  and 
figure,  and  then  shook  hands  with  him  again,  if  possi- 
ble, more  warmly  than  before. 

"Well;  and  how  came  you  here?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  smile  in  which  benevolence  struggled  with  sur- 
prise. 

"Come,"  replied  the  stranger — "stopping  at  Crown — 
Crown  at  Muggleton — met  a  party — flannel  jacket — 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


white  trowsers — anchovy  sandwiches — devilled  kidneys 
— splendid  fellows — glorious." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sufficiently  versed  in  the  stranger  s 
system  of  stenography  to  infer  from  this  rapid  and  dis- 
jointed communication  that  he  had,  somehow  or  other, 
contracted  an  acquaintance  with  the  All-Muggletons, 
'  which  he  had  converted,  by  a  process  peculiar  to  him- 
self, into  that  extent  of  good  fellowship  on  which  a 
general  invitation  may  be  easily  founded.  His  curiosity 
was  therefore  satisfied,  and  putting  on  his  spectacles,  he 
prepared  himself  to  watch  the  play  which  was  just 
commencing. 

All-Muggieton  had  the  first  innings ;  and  the  interest  be- 
came intense  when  Mr.  Dumkins  and  Mr.  Podder,  two  of 
the  most  renowned  members  of  that  most  distinguished 
club,  walked,  bat  in  hand,  to  their  respective  wickets. 
Mr.  Luffey,  the  highest  ornament  of  Dingley  Dell,  was 
pitched  to  bowl  against  the  redoubtable  Dumkins,  and 
Mr.  Struggles  was  selected  to  do  the  same  kind  office  for 
the  hitherto  unconquered  Podder.  Several  players  were 
stationed  to  "  look  out,"  in  different  parts  of  the  field, 
and  each  fixed  himself  into  the  proper  attitude  by  plac- 
ing one  hand  on  each  knee,  and  stooping  very  much  as 
if  he  were  ''making  a  back"  for  some  beginner  at  leap- 
frog. All  the  regular  players  do  this  sort  of  thing — 
indeed  it  is  generally  supposed  that  it  is  quite  impossible 
to  look  out  properly  in  any  other  position. 

The  umpires  were  stationed  behind  the  wickets;  the 
scorers  were  prepared  to  notch  the  runs;  a  breathless 
silence  ensued.  Mr.  Luffey  retired  a  few  paces  behind 
the  wicket  of  the  passive  Podder,  and  applied  the  ball  to 
his  right  eye  for  several  seconds.  Dumkins  confidently 
awaited  its  coming,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  motions 
of  Luffey. 

*'Play,"  suddenly  cried  the  bowler.  The  ball  fiew 
from  his  hand  straight  and  swift  towards  the  centre 
stump  of  the  wicket.  The  wary  Dumkins  was  on  the 
alert;  it  fell  upon  the  tip  of  the  bat,  and  bounded  far 
away  over  the  heads  of  the  scouts,  who  had  just  stooped 
low  enough  to  let  it  fly  over  them. 

''  Run — run — another.  Now,  then,  throw  her  up — up 
with  her — stop  there — another — no — yes — no — throw  her 
up,  throw  her  up  !"  Such  were  the  shouts  which  fol- 
lowed the  stroke;  and,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  All- 


96  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Muggleton  had  scored  two.  Nor  was  Podder  behindhand 
in  earning  laurels  wherewith  to  garnish  himself  and 
Muggleton.  He  blocked  the  doubtful  balls,  missed  the 
bad  ones,  took  the  good  ones,  and  sent  them  flying  to  all 
parts  of  the  field.  The  scouts  were  hot  and  tired;  the 
bowlers  were  changed  and  bowled  till  their  arms  ached; 
but  Dumkins  and  Podder  remained  unconquered.  Did 
an  elderly  gentleman  essay  to  stop  the  progress  of  the 
ball,  it  rolled  between  his  legs,  or  slipped  between  his 
fingers.  Did  a  slim  gentleman  try  to  catch  it,  it  struck 
him  on  the  nose,  and  bounded  pleasantly  off  with  re- 
doubled violence,  while  the  slim  gentleman's  eyes  filled 
with  water,  and  his  form  writhed  with  anguish.  Was 
it  thrown  straight  up  to  the  wicket,  Dumkins  had 
reached  it  before  the  ball.  In  short,  when  Dumkins 
was  caught  out,  and  Podder  stumped  out,  AU-Muggleton 
had  notched  some  fifty-four,  while  the  score  of  the 
Dingiey-Dellers  was  as  blank  as  their  faces.  The  ad- 
vantage was  too  great  to  be  recovered.  In  vain  did  the 
eager  Luff  ey,  and  the  enthusiastic  Struggles,  do  all  that 
skill  and  experience  could  suggest,  to  regain  the  ground 
Dingley-Dell  had  lost  in  the  contest — it  was  of  no  avail; 
and  in  an  early  period  of  the  winning  game  Dingley  Dell 
gave  in,  and  allowed  the  superior  prowess  of  All-Mug- 
gleto.n. 

.  The  stranger,  meanwhile,  had  been  eating,  drinking, 
and  talking  without  cessation.  At  every  good  stroke  he 
expressed  his  satisfaction  and  approval  of  the  player  in 
a  most  condescending  and  patronising  manner,  which 
could  not  fail  to  have  been  highly  gratifying  to  the  party 
concerned;  while  at  every  bad  attempt  at  a  catch,  and 
every  failure  to  stop  the  ball,  he  launched  his  personal 
displeasure  at  the  head  of  the  devoted  individual  in  such 
dejnunciations  as — ''Ah,  ah! — stupid" — ''Now  butter- 
fingers  " — "  Muff  " — "  Humbug" — and  so  forth — ejacula- 
tions which  seemed  to  establish  him  in  the  opinion  of  all 
around,  as  a  most  excellent  and  undeniable  judge  of  the 
whole  art  and  mystery  of  the  noble  game  of  cricket. 

"Capital  game — well  played — some  strokes  admira- 
ble," said  the  stranger  as  both  sides  crowded  into  the 
the  tent,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  game. 

"You  have  played  it,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.Wardle,  who 
had  been  much  amused  by  his  loquacity. 

"Played   it!    Think  I  have — tbous^.nds  of  times— 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


97 


not  here — West  Indies — exciting  thing — hot  work — 
very." 

"  It  must  be  rather  a  warm  pursuit  in  such  a  climate," 
observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^^Warm! — red  hot — scorching — glowing.  Played  a 
match  once — single  wicket — friend  the  Colonel — Sir 
Thomas  Blazo — who  should  get  the  greatest  number  of 
runs. — Won  the  toss — first  innings — seven — o'clock,  a. 
M. — six  natives  to  look  out — went  in;  kept  in — heat  in- 
tense— natives  all  fainted — taken  away — fresh  half- 
dozen  ordered — fainted  also — Blazo  bowling — supported 
by  two  natives — couldn't  bowl  me  out — fainted  too — 
cleared — away  the  Colonel — wouldn't  give  in — faithful 
attendant — Quanko  Samba — last  man  left — sun  so  hot, 
bat  in  blisters,  ball  scorched  brown — five  hundred  and 
seventy  runs — rather  exhausted — Quanko  mustered  up 
last  remaining  strength — bowled  me  out — had  a  bath, 
and  went  out  to  dinner." 

''And  what  became  of  what's-his-name,  sir  ?  "  inquired 
an  old  gentleman. 

'•Blazo?" 

"No — the  other  gentleman." 
"Quanko  Samba?" 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"Poor  Quanko — never  recovered  it — bowled  on,  on  my 
account — bowled  off,  on  his  own — died,  sir."  Here  the 
stranger  buried  his  countenance  in  a  brown  jug,  but 
whether  to  hide  his  emotion  or  imbibe  its  contents,  we 
cannot  distinctly  affirm.  We  only  know  that  he  paused 
suddenly,  drew  a  long  and  deep  breath,  and  looked 
anxiously  on,  as  two  of  the  principal  members  of 
the  Dingley  Dell  club  approached  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
said: 

"  We  are  about  to  partake  of  a  plain  dinner  at  the 
Blue  Lion,  sir;  we  hope  you  and  your  friends  will  join 
us." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Wardle^  "  among  our  friends 
we  include  Mr.  ;"  and  he  looked  towards  the  stranger. 

"  Jingle,"  said  that  versatile  gentleman,  taking  the 
hint  at  once.  "  Jingle— Alfred  Jingle,  Esq,  of  No  Hall, 
Nowhere." 

I  shall  be  very  happy,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"So  shall  I,"  said  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  drawing  one 
arm  through  Mr.  Pickwick's,  and  another  through  Mr. 


98 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Wardle's,  as  he  whispered  confidentially  in  the  ear  of 
the  former  gentleman: 

Devilish  good  dinner — cold,  but  capital — peeped  into 
the  room  this  morning — fowls  and  pies,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing — pleasant  fellows  these — well  behaved,  too 
— very." 

There  being  no  further  preliminaries  to  arrange,  the 
company  straggled  into  the  town  in  little  knots  of  twos 
and  threes;  and  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  were  all 
seated  in  the  great  room  of  the  Blue  Lion  Inn,  Muggle- 
ton — Mr.  Dumkins  acting  as  chairman,  and  Mr.  Luffey 
officiating  as  vice. 

There  was  a  vast  deal  of  talking  and  rattling  of 
knives  and  forks,  and  plates:  a  great  running  about  of 
three  ponderous-headed  waiters,  and  a  rapid  disappear- 
ance of  the  substantial  viands  on  the  table;  to  each  and 
every  of  which  item  of  confusion,  the  facetious  Mr. 
Jingle  lent  the  aid  of  half-a-dozen  ordinary  men  at 
least.  When  everybody  had  eaten  as  much  as  possible, 
the  cloth  was  removed,  bottles,  glasses,  and  dessert  were 
placed  on  the  table;  and  the  waiters  withdrew  to  "  clear 
away,"  or  in  other  words,  to  appropriate  to  their  own 
private  use  and  emolument,  whatever  remnants  of  the 
eatables  and  drinkables  they  could  contrive  to  lay  their 
hands  on. 

Amidst  the  general  hum  of  mirth  and  conversation 
that  ensued,  there  was  a  little  man  with  a  puffy  Say- 
nothing  -  to  -  me-or-I'll-contradict  -  you  sort  of  counte- 
nance, who  remained  very  quiet;  occasionally  looking 
round  him  when  the  conversation  slackened,  as  if  he 
contemplated  putting  in  something  very  weighty :  and 
now  and  then  bursting  into  a  short  cough  of  inexpress- 
ible grandeur.  At  length,  during  a  moment  of  com- 
parative silence,  the  little  man  called  out  in  a  very  loud, 
solemn  voice: 

^^Mr.  Luffey r 

Everybody  was  hushed  into  a  profound  stillness  as  the 
individual  addressed,  replied: 
''Sir!" 

"  I  wish  to  address  a  few  words  to  you,  sir,  if  you  will 
entreat  the  gentlemen  to  fill  their  glasses." 

Mr.  Jingle  uttered  a  patronizing  "  Hear,  hear,"  which 
was  responded  to  by  the  remainder  of  the  company: 
and  the  glasses  having  been  filled,  the  Vice-President 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


99 


assumed  an  air  of  wisdom  in  a  state  of  profound  atten- 
tion, and  said: 
^^Mr.  Staple." 

''Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  rising,  ''I  wish  to  address 
what  I  have  to  say  to  you  and  not  to  our  worthy  chair- 
man, because  ou/ worthy  chairman  is  in  some  measure 
-- 1  may  say  in  a  great  degree— the  subject  of  what  I 
have  to  say,  or  I  may  say  to — to — " 

"  State,"  suggested  Mr.  Jingle. 

— ''Yes,  to  state,"  said  the  little  man,  "I  thank  my 
honourable  friend,  if  he  will  allow  me  to  call  him  so — 
(four  hears,  and  one  certainly  from  Mr.  Jingle) — for  the 
suggestion.  Sir,  I  am  a  Deller — a  Dingley  Deller  (cheers). 
I  cannot  lay  claim  to  the  honour  of  forming  an  item  in 
the  population  of  Muggleton ;  nor,  sir,  I  will  frankly  ad- 
mit, do  I  covet  that  honour:  and  I  will  tell  you  why,  sir 
(hear);  to  Muggleton  I  will  readily  concede  all  those 
honours  and  distinctions  to  which  it  can  fairly  lay  claim 
— they  are  too  numerous  and  too  well  known  to  require 
aid  or  recapitulation  from  me.  But,  sir,  while  we  re- 
member that  Muggleton  has  given  birth  to  a  Dumkins 
and  a  Fodder,  let  us  never  forget  that  Dingley  Dell  can 
boast  a  Luff ey  and  a  Struggles.  (Vociferous  cheering.) 
Let  me  not  be  considered  as  wishing  to  detract  from  the 
merits  of  the  former  gentlemen.  Sir,  I  envy  them  the 
luxury  of  their  own  feelings,  on  this  occasion.  (Cheers), 
Every  gentleman  who  hears  me,  is  probably  acquainted 
with  the  reply  made  by  an  individual,  who — to  use  an 
ordinary  figure  of  speech — 'hung  out'  in  a  tub,  to  the 
Emperor  Alexander — '  If  I  were  not  Diogenes,'  said  he, 
'  I  would  be  Alexander.'  I  can  well  imagine  these 
gentlemen  to  say,  '  If  I  were  not  Dumkins  1  would  be 
Luflfey;  if  I  were  not  Fodder  I  would  be  Struggles.' 
(Enthusiasm.)  But,  gentlemen  of  Muggleton,  is  it  in 
cricket  alone  that  your  fellow-townsmen  stand  pre- 
eminent? Have  you  never  heard  of  Dumkins  and  de- 
termination? Have  you  never  been  taught  to  associate 
Fodder  with  property?  (Great  applause,)  Have  you 
never,  when  struggling  for  your  rights,  your  liberties, 
and  your  privileges,  been  reduced,  if  only  for  an  instant, 
to  misgiving  and  despair?  And  when  you  have  been  ^ 
thus  depressed,  has  not  the  name  of  Dumkins  laid 
afresh  within  your  breast  the  fire  which  had  just  gone 
out;  and  lias  not  a  word  from  that  man  lightccl  it  again 


100  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


as  brightly  as  if  it  had  never  expired?  (Great  cheering.) 
Gentlemen,  I  beg  you  to  surround  with  a  rich  halo  of 
enthusiastic  cheering,  the  united  names  of  '  Dumkins 
and  Podder.'" 

Here  the  little  man  ceased,  and  here  the  company  com- 
menced a  raising  of  voices,  and  thumping  of  tables, 
which  lasted  with  little  intermission  during  the  remainder 
of  the  evening.  Other  toasts  were  drunk.  Mr.  Luffey 
and  Mr.  Struggles,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Jingle,  were, 
each  in  his  turn,  the  subject  of  unqualified  eulogium; 
and  each  in  due  course  returned  thanks  for  the  honour. 

Enthusiastic  as  we  are  in  the  noble  cause  to  which  we 
have  devoted  ourselves,  we  should  have  felt  a  sensation 
of  pride  which  we  cannot  express,  and  a  consciousness 
of  having  done  something  to  merit  immortality  of  which 
we  are  now  deprived,  could  we  have  laid  the  faintest 
outline  of  these  addresses  before  our  ardent  readers. 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  usual,  took  a  great  mass  of  notes, 
which  no  doubt  w^ould  have  afforded  most  useful  and 
valuable  information,  had  not  the  burning  eloquence  of 
the  words  or  the  feverish  influence  of  the  wine  made 
that  gentleman's  hand  so  extremely  unsteady,  as  to  ren- 
der his  writing  nearly  unintellibible,  and  his  style  wholly 
so.  By  dint  of  patient  investigation,  we  have  been  en- 
abled to  trace  some  characters  bearing  a  faint  resem- 
blance to  the  names  of  the  speakers:  and  we  can  also 
discern  an  entry  of  a  song  (supposed  to  have  been  sung 
by  Mr.  Jingle),  in  which  the  words  ^'bowl"  '^sparkling" 
''ruby,"  ''bright,"  and  ''wine"  are  frequently  repeated 
at  short  intervals,  We  fancy,  too,  that  we  can  discern 
at  the  very  end  of  the  notes,  some  indistinct  reference 
to  "  broiled  bones;"  and  then  the  words  "cold"  "with- 
out" occur:  but  as  any  hypothesis  we  could  found  upon 
them  must  necessarily  rest  upon  mere  conjecture,  we 
are  not  disposed  to  indulge  in  any  of  the  speculations  to 
which  they  may  give  rise. 

We  will  therefore  return  to  Mr.  Tupman;  merely  add- 
ing that  within  some  few  minutes  before  twelve  o'clock 
that  night,  the  convocation  of  worthies  of  Dingley  Dell 
and  Muggleton  were  heard  to  sing  with  great  feeling 
and  emphasiS;,  the  beautiful  and  pathetic  national  air,  of 

We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
'Till  daylight  doth  appear." 


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101 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

STRONGLY    ILLUSTRATIVE   OF    THE   POSITION,    THAT  THE 
COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE  IS  NOT  A  RAILWAY. 

The  quiet  seclusion  of  Dingiey  Dell,  the  presence  of 
SO  many  of  the  gentler  sex,  and  the  solicitude  and  anx- 
iety they  evinced  in  his  behalf,  were  all  favourable  to 
the  growth  and  development  of  those  softer  feelings 
which  nature  had  implanted  deep  in  the  bosom  of  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman,  and  which  now  appeared  destined  to 
centre  in  one  lovely  object.  The  young  ladies  were 
pretty,  their  manners  winning,  their  dispositions  unex- 
ceptionable; but  there  was  a  dignity  in  the  air,  a  touch- 
me-not-islmess  in  the  walk,  a  majesty  in  the  eye  of  the 
spinster  aunt,  to  wiiich.  at  their  time  of  life,  they  could 
lay  no  claim,  which  distinguished  her  from  any  female 
on  whom  Mr.  Tupman  had  ever  gazed.  That  there 
was  something  kindred  in  their  nature,  something 
congenial  in  their  souls,  something  mysteriously  sympa- 
thetic in  their  bosoms,  was  evident.  Her  name  was  tlie 
first  that  rose  to  Mr.  Tupman's  lips  as  he  lay  wounded 
on  the  grass;  and  her  hysteric  laughter  was  the  first 
sound  that  fell  upon  his  ear,  when  he  was  supported  to 
the  hous^.  But  had  her  agitation  arisen  from  an 
amiable  and  feminine  sensibility  which  would  have 
]jeyn  equally  irrepressible  in  any  case;  or  had  it  been 
called  forth  by  a  more  ardent  and  passionate  feeling, 
which  he,  of  all  men  living,  could  alone  awaken?  These 
were  the  doubts  which  racked  his  brain  as  he  lay  ex- 
tended on  the  sofa:  these  were  the  doubts  which  he 
determined  should  be  at  once  and  forever  resolved. 

It  was  evening.  Isabc^lla  and  Emily  had  strolled  out 
wit^i  Air.  Trundle;  the  deaf  old  lady  had  fallen  aslee})  in 
her  chair;  the  snoring  of  the  fat  boy  penetrated  in  a  low 
and  monotonous  sound  from  the  distant  kitchen;  the 
buxom  servants  were  lounging  at  the  side-door,  enjoy- 
ing the  pleasantness  of  the  hour,  and  the  delights  of  a 
flirtation,  on  first  principles,  with  certain  unwieldy  ani- 
mals attached  to  the  farm;  and  there  sat  tlie  interesting 
pair,  uncared  for  by  all,  caring  for  none,  and  dreaming 


102  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


only  of  themselves:  there  they  sat,  in  short,  like  a  pair 
of  carefully-folded  kid  gloves — bound  up  in  each  other. 

I  have  forgotten  my  flowers/'  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

Water  them  now/'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  accents  of 
persuasion. 

''You  will  take  cold  in  the  evening  air/' urged  the 
spinster  aunt,  affectionately. 

''No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  rising;  "it  will  do  me 
good.    Let  me  accompany  you." 

The  lady  paused  to  adjust  the  sling  in  which  the  left 
arm  of  the  youth  was  placed,  a.nd  taking  his  right  arm 
led  him  to  the  garden. 

There  was  a  bower  at  the  further  end,  with  honey- 
suckle, jessamine,  and  creeping  plants — one  of  those 
sweet  retreats,  which  humane  men  erect  for  the  accom- 
modation of  spiders. 

The  spinster  aunt  took  up  a  large  watering-pot  which 
lay  in  one  corner,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  arbour. 
Mr.  Tupman  detained  her,  and  drew  her  to  a  seat  beside 
him. 

"Miss  Wardle,"  said  he. 

The  spinster  aunt  trembled,  till  some  pebbles  which 
had  accidentally  found  their  way  into  the  large  water- 
ing-pot, shook  like  an  infant's  rattle. 

"  Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  "  you  are  an  angel." 

"  Mr.  Tupman!"  exclaimed  Rachael,  l3lushing  as  red  as 
the  watering-pot  itself. 

"Nay,"  said  the  eloquent  Pickwickian,  "P know  it 
but  too  well." 

"  All  women  are  angels,  they  say,"  murmured  the  lady, 
playfully. 

"  Then  what  can  you  be;  or  to  what,  without  presump- 
tion, can  I  compare  you?"  replied  Mr.  Tupman.  "  Where 
was  the  woman  ever  seen  who  resembled  you?  Where 
else  could  I  hope  to  find  so  rare  a  combination  of  excel- 
lence and  beauty?  Where  else  could  I  seek  to — oh  I'' 
Here  Mr.  Tupman  paused,  and  pressed  the  hand  v*^htch 
clasped  the  handle  of  the  happy  watering-pot. 

The  lady  turned  aside  her  head.  "Men  are  such  de- 
ceivers," she  softly  whispered. 

" They  are,  they  are/' ejaculated  Mr.  Tupman;  "but 
not  all  men.  Their  lives  at  least  one  being  who  can 
never  change — one  being  who  Would  be  content  to  devote 
his  whole  existence  to  your  happiness — who  lives  but  in 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


103 


your  eyes — who  breathes  but  in  your  smiles — who  bears 
the  heavy  burden  of  life  itself  only  for  you." 

Could  such  an  individual  be  found/'  said  the  lady — 

''But  he  can  be  found/'  said  the  ardent  Mr.  Tupman, 
interposing.  "  He  is  found.  He  is  here,  Miss  Wardle." 
And  ere  the  lady  was  aware  of  his  intention,  Mr.  Tup- 
man  had  sunk  upon  his  knees  at  her  feet. 

"'Mr.  Tupman,  rise,"  said  Rachael. 

''Never!"  was  the  valorous  reply.  "Oh,  Rachael!" 
He  seized  her  passive  hand,  and  the  watering-pot  fell  to 
the  ground  as  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  "Oh,  Rachael! 
say  you  love  me." 

"Mr.  Tupman,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  averted 
head — "I  can  hardly  speak  the  words;  but — but — you 
are  not  wholly  indifferent  to  me.'^ 

Mr.  Tupman  no  sooner  heard  this  avowal  than  he  pro- 
ceeded to  do  what  his  enthusiastic  emotions  prompted, 
and  what,  for  aught  we  know  (for  we  are  but  little 
acquainted  with  such  matters),  people  so  circumstanced 
always  do.  He  jumped  up,  and,  throwing  his  arm 
round  the  neck  of  the  spinster  aunt,  imprinted  upon  her 
lips  numerous  kisses,  which,  after  a  due  show  of  strug- 
gling and  resistance,  she  received  so  passively,  that 
there  is  no  telling  how  many  more  Mr.  Tupman  might 
have  bestowed,  if  the  lady  had  not  given  a  very  un- 
affected start,  and  exclaimed,  in  an  affrighted  tone: 

'"  Mr.  Tupman,  we  are  observed! — we  are  discovered!" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round.  There  was  the  fat  boy, 
perfectly  motionless,  with  his  large  circular  eyes  staring 
mto  the  arbour,  but  without  the  slightest  expression  on 
his  face  that  the  most  expert  physiognomist  could  have 
referred  to  astonishment,  curiosity,  or  any  other  known 
passion  that  agitates  the  human  breast.  Mr.  Tupman 
gazed  on  the  fat  boy,  and  the  fat  boy  stared  at  him;  and 
the  longer  Mr.  Tupman  observed  the  utter  vacancy  of 
the  fat  boy's  countenance,  the  more  convinced  he  became 
that  he  either  did  not  know,  or  did  not  understand,  any- 
thing that  had  been  going  forward.  Under  this  impres- 
sion, he  said,  with  great  firmness: 

"  What  do  you  want  here,  sir?" 

"Supper's  ready,  sir,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Have  you  just  come  here,  sir?'Mnquired  Mr.  Tupman, 
with  a  piercing  look. 

"Just," replied  the  fat  boy. 


104 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  him  very  hard  again:  but  there 
was  not  a  wink  in  his  eye,  or  a  curve  in  his  face. 

Mr.  Tupman  took  the  arm  of  the  spinster  aunt,  and 
walked  towards  the  house:  the  fat  boy  followed  behind. 

He  knows  nothing  of  what  has  happened,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

Nothing,"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 
There  was  a  sound  behind  them,  as  of  an  imperfectly 
suppressed  chuckle.  Mr.  Tupman  turned  sharply  round. 
No;  it  could  not  have  been  the  fat  boy;  there  was  not  a 
gleam  of  mirth,  or  anything  but  feeding  in  his  whole 
visage. 

He  must  have  been  fast  asleep,"  whispered  Mr.  Tup- 
man. 

I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  replied  the  spinster 
aunt. 

They  both  laughed  heartily. 

Mr.  Tupman  was  wrong.  The  fat  boy,  for  once,  had 
not  been  fast  asleep.  He  was  awake — wide  awake — to 
what  had  been  going  forward. 

The  supper  passed  off  without  any  attempt  at  a  gen- 
eral conversation.  The  old  la.dy  had  gone  to  bed;  Isa- 
bella Wardle  devoted  herself  exclusively  to  Mr.  Trundle; 
the  spinster  aunt's  attentions  were  reserved  for  Mr.  Tup- 
man; and  Emily's  thoughts  appeared  to  be  engrossed  by 
some  distant  object — possibly  they  were  with  the  absent 
Snodgrass. 

Eleven — twelve — one  o'clock  had  struck,  and  the  gen- 
tlemen had  not  arrived.  Consternation  sat  on  every 
face.  Could  they  have  been  waylaid  and  robbed  ?  Should 
they  send  men  and  lanterns  in  every  direction  by  which 
they  could  be  supposed  likely  to  have  travelled  home? 
or  should  they — Hark!  there  they  were.  What  could 
have  made  them  so  late  ?  A  strange  voice,  too !  To  whom 
could  it  belong?  They  rushed  into  the  kitchen,  whither 
the  truants  had  repaired,  and  at  once  obtained  rather 
more  than  a  glimmering  of  the  real  state  of  the  case. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his 
hat  cocked  completely  over  his  left  eye,  was  leaning 
against  the  dresser,  shaking  his  head  from  side  to  side, 
and  producing  a  constant  succession  of  the  blandest  and 
most  benevolent  smiles  without  being  moved  thereunto 
by  any  discernible  cause  or  pretence  whatsoever;  old 
Mr.  Wardle,  with  a  highly  inKiamed  countenance,  was 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


105 


grasping  the  hand  of  a  strange  gentleman,  muttering 
protestations  of  eternal  friendship;  Mr.  Winkle,  sup- 
porting himself  by  the  eight-day  clock,  was  feebly  in- 
voking destruction  upon  the  head  of  any  member  of  the 
family  who  should  suggest  the  propriety  of  his  retiring 
for  the  night;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  sunk  into  a  chair 
with  an  expression  of  the  most  abject  and  hopeless 
misery  that  the  human  mind  can  imagine  portrayed  in 
every  lineament  of  his  expressive  face. 

''Is  anything  the  matter?"  inquired  the  three  ladies. 

''JSTothin'  the  matter,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  '' We— 
we're — all  right — I  say,  Wardle,  we're  all  right,  ain't  we?" 

"  I  should  think  so,"  replied  the  jolly  host.  "  My  dears, 
here's  my  friend  Mr.  Jingle — Mr.  Pickwick's  friend,  Mr. 
Jingle,  come  'pon — little  visit." 

''Is  anything  the  matter  with  Mr.  Snodgrass,  sir?" in- 
quired Emily,  with  great  anxiety. 

"Nothing  the  matter,  ma'am,"  replied  the  stranger. 
"  Cricket  dinner — glorious  party — capital  songs — old 
port — claret — good — very  good — wine,  ma'am — wine." 

"It  wasn't  the  wine,"  murmured  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  a 
broken  voice.  ' '  It  was  the  salmon. "  (Somehow  or  other, 
it  never  is  the  wine  in  these  cases.) 

"Hadn't  they  better  go  to  bed,  ma'am?"  inquired 
Emma.  "  Two  of  the  boys  will  carry  the  gentlemen  up 
stairs." 

"  I  won't  go  to  bed,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  firmly. 

"No  living  boy  shall  carry  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
stoutl}^ — and  he  went  on  smiling  as  before. 

"  Hurrah!"  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  faintly. 

"  Hurrah!"  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  off  his  hat 
and  dashing  it  on  the  floor,  and  insanely  casting  his 
spectacles  into  the  middle  of  the  kitchen.  At  this 
humorous  feat  he  laughed  outright. 

"Let's — have — 'nother— bottle,"  cried  Mr.  Winkle, 
commencing  in  a  very  loud  key,  and  ending  in  a  very 
faint  one.  His  head  dropped  upon  his  breast;  and,  mut- 
tering his  invincible  determination  not  to  go  to  his  bed, 
and  a  sanguinary  regret  that  he  had  not  "done  for  old 
Tupman"  m  the  morning,  he  fell  fast  asleep;  in  which 
condition  he  was  borne  to  his  apartment  by  two  young 
giants  under  the  personal  superintendence  of  the  fat 
boy,  to  whose  i)rotecting  care  Mi'.'  Snodgrass  shortly 
afterwards  confided  his  own  person.    Mr.  Pickwick  ac- 


106  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 


cepted  the  proffered  arm  of  Mr.  Tupman,  and  quietly 
disappeared,  smiling  more  than  ever;  and  Mr.  Wardle, 
after  taking  as  affectionate  a  leave  of  the  whole  family 
as  if  he  were  ordered  for  immediate  execution,  con- 
signed to  Mr.  Trundle  the  honour  of  conveying  him  up 
stairs,  and  retired,  with  a  very  futile  attempt  to  look 
impressively  solemn  and  dignified. 

"  What  a  shocking  scene!"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

''Dis — gusting!"  ejaculated  both  the  young  ladies. 
Dreadful— dreadful!"  said  Jingle,  looking  very  grave; 
he  was  about  a  bottle  and  a  half  ahead  of  any  of  his 
companions.     Horrid  spectacle — very." 

What  a  nice  man!"  whispered  the  spinster  aunt  to 
Mr.  Tupman. 

''Good-looking,  too!"  whispered  Emily  Wardle. 

''C)h,  decidedly,"  observed  the  spinster  aunt. 

Mr.  Tupman  thought  of  the  widow  at  Rochester:  and 
his  mind  was  troubled.  The  succeeding  half-hour's  con- 
versation was  not  of  a  nature  to  calm  his  perturbed 
spirit.  The  new  visitor  was  very  talkative,  and  the 
number  of  his  anecdotes  was  only  to  be  exceeded  by  the 
extent  of  his  politeness.  Mr.  Tapman  felt,  that  as  Jin- 
gle's popularity  increased,  he  (Tupman)  retired  further 
into  the  shade.  His  laughter  was  forced — his  merriment 
feigned;  and  when  at  last  he  laid  his  aching  temples  be- 
tween the  sheets,  he  thought  with  horrid  delight  on  the 
satisfaction  it  would  afford  him  to  have  Jingle's  head  at 
that  moment  between  the  feather  bed  and  the  mattress. 

The  indefatigable  stranger  rose  betimes  next  morning, 
and,  although  his  companions  remained  in  bed  over- 
powered with  the  dissipation  of  the  previous  night, 
exerted  himself  most  successfully  to  promote  the  hilarity 
of  the  breakfast-table.  So  successful  were  his  efforts 
,that  even  the  deaf  old  lady  insisted  on  having  one  or 
two  of  his  best  jokes  retailed  through  the  trumpet;  and 
even  she  condescended  to  observe  to  the  spinster  aunt, 
that  ''he"  (meaning  Jingle)  "was  an  impudent  young 
fellow:"  a  sentiment  in  which  all  her  relations  then  and 
there  present  thoroughly  coincided. 

It  was  the  old  lady's  habit  on  the  fine  summer  morn- 
ings to  repair  to  the  arbour  in  which  Mr.  Tupman  had 
already  signalized  himself,  in  form  and  manner  follow- 
ing: first,  the  fat  boy  fetched  from  a  peg  behind  the  old 
lady's  bed-room  door,  a  close  black  satin  bonnet,  a  warm 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


107 


cotton  shawl,  and  a  thick  stick  with  a  capacious  handle ; 
and  the  old  lady,  having  put  on  the  bonnet  and  shaw^l  at 
her  leisure,  would  lean  one  hand  on  the  stick  and  the 
other  on  the  fat  boy's  shoulder,  and  walk  leisurely  to 
the  arbour,  where  the  fat  boy  would  leave  her  to  enjoy 
the  fresh  air  for  the  space  of  half  an  hour;  at  the  expira- 
tion of  which  time  he  would  return  and  reconduct  her 
to  the  house. 

The  old  lady  was  very  precise  and  very  particular; 
and  as  this  ceremony  had  been  observed  for  three  suc- 
cessive summers  without  the  slightest  deviation  from 
the  accustomed  form,  she  was  not  a  little  surprised,  on 
this  particular  morning,  to  see  the  fat  boy,  instead  of 
leaving  the  arbour,  walk  a  few  paces  out  of  it,  look  care- 
fully round  him  in  every  direction,  and  return  towards 
her Vith  great  stealth  and  an  air  of  the  most  profound 
mystery. 

The  old  lady  was  timorous — most  old  ladies  are — and 
her  first  impression  was  that  the  bloated  lad  was  about 
to  do  her  some  grievous  bodily  harm,  with  the  view  of 
possessing  himself  of  her  loose  coin.  She  would  have 
cried  for  assistance,  but  age  and  infirmity  had  long  ago 
deprived  her  of  the  power  of  screaming;  she,  therefore, 
v/atched  his  motions  with  feelings  of  intense  terror, 
which  were^  in  no  degree  diminished  by  his  coming  close 
up  to  her,  and  shouting  in  her  ear  in  an  agitated,  and, 
as  it  seemed  to  her,  a  threatening  tone: 

'^Missus!" 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Jingle  was  walking  in 
the  garden  close  to  the  arbour  at  this  moment.  He  too 
heard  the  shout  of  ^'Missus,"  and  stopped  to  liear  more. 
There  were  three  reasons  for  his  doing  so.  In  the  first  | 
place,  he  was  idle  and  curious;  secondly,  he  was  by  no  I 
means  scrupulous;  thirdly,  and  lastly,  he  was  concealed 
from  view  by  some  flowering  shrubs.  So  there  he  stood, 
and  there  he  listened. 

"  Missus!"  shouted  the  fat  boy. 
Well,  Joe,'^  said  the  trembling  old  lady.  ^'I'm  sure 
I  have  been  a  good  mistress  to  you,  Joe.  You  have  in- 
variably been  treated  very  kindly.  You  have  never 
had  too  much  to  do;  and  you  have  -always  liad  enough 
to  eat." 

This  last  was  an  appeal  to  the  fat  boy's  most  sensitive 
feelings.  He  seemed  touched,  as  he  repliedr,  emphatically : 


108 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  I  knows  I  has." 

"  Then  what  can  you  want  to  do  now?"  said  the  old 
lady,  gaining  courage. 

''I  wants  to  make  your  flesh  creep/'  replied  the  boy. 

This  sounded  like  a  very  bloodthirsty  mode  of  show- 
ing one's  gratitude;  and  as  the  old  lady  did  not  precisely 
understand  the  process  by  which  such  a  result  was  to  be 
attained,  all  her  former  horrors  returned. 

What  do  you  think  I  see  in  this  very  arbour  last 
night?  "  inquired  the  boy. 

Bless  us!  What?  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  alarmed 
at  the  solemn  manner  of  the  corpulent  youth. 

"  The  strange  gentleman — him  as  had  his  arm  hurt — 

a  kissin'  and  huggin'  " 

Who,  Joe?   None  of  the  servants,  I  hope." 

^^Worser  than  that,"  roared  the  fat  boy  in  the  old 
lady's  ear. 

"  Not  one  of  my  grand-da' aters?" 

"  Worser  than  tliat." 

''Worse  than  that,  Joe!"  said  the  old  lady,  who  had 
thought  this  the  extreme  limit  of  human  atrocity.  ' '  Who 
was  it,  Joe?    I  insist  upon  knowing." 

The  fat  boy  looked  cautiously  round,  and  having  con- 
cluded his  survey,  shouted  in  the  old  lady's  ear: 

''Miss  Rachael." 

"  What!  "  said  the  old  lady,  in  a  shrill  tone.  "  Speak 
louder." 

"  Miss  Rachael,"  roared  the  fat  boy. 
"My  da'ater?" 

The  train  of  nods  which  the  fat  boy  gave  by  way  of 
assent,  communicated  a  blanc-ma7ig e-like  motion  to  his 
cheeks. 

"  And  she  suffered  him! "  exclaimed  the  old  lady. 
A  grin  stole  over  the  fat  boy's  features  as  he  said: 
"  I  see  her  a  kissin'  of  him  agin." 

If  Mr.  Jingle,  from  his  place  of  concealment,  could 
have  beheld  the  expression  which  the  old  lady's  face  as- 
sumed at  this  communication,  the  probability  is  that  a 
sudden  burst  of  laughter  would  have  betrayed  his  close 
vicinity  to  the  summer-house.  He  listened  attentively. 
Fragments  of  angry  sentences  such  as,  "Without  my 
permission!" — "At  her  time  of  life — "Miserable  old 
'ooman  like  me" — "Might  have  waited  till  I  was  dead," 
and  so  forth,  reached  his  ears;  and  then  he  heard  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


109 


heels  of  the  fat  boy's  boots  crunching  the  gravel,  as 
he  retired  and  left  the  old  lady  alone. 

It  was  a  remarkable  coincidence  perhaps,  but  it  was 
nevertheless  a  fact,  that  Mr.  Jingle,  within  five  minutes 
after  his  arrival  at  Manor  Farm  on  the  preceding  night, 
had  inwardly  resolved  to  lay  siege  to  the  heart  of  the 
spinster  aunt  without  delay.  He  had  observation  enough 
to  see  that  his  off-hand  manner  Avas  by  no  means  dis- 
agreeable to  the  fair  object  of  his  attack;  and  he  had 
niore  than  a  strong  suspicion  that  she  possessed  that  most 
desirable  of  all  requisites,  a  small  independence.  The 
imperative  necessity  of  ousting  his  rival  by  some  means 
or  other,  flashed  quickly  upon  him,  and  he  immediately 
resolved  to  adopt  certain  proceedings  tending  to  that 
end  and  object,  without  a  moment's  delay.  Fielding 
tells  us  that  man  is  fire,  and  woman  tow,  and  the  Prince 
of  Darkness  sets  a  light  to  'em.  Mr.  Jingle  knew  that 
young  men  to  spinster  aunts  are  as  lighted  gas  to  gun- 
powder, and  he  determined  to  essay  the  effect  of  an  ex- 
plosion without  loss  of  time. 

Full  of  refiections  upon  this  important  decision,  he 
crept  from  his  place  of  concealment,  and  under  cover  of 
the  shrubs  before  mentioned,  approached  the  house. 
Fortune  seemed  determined  to  favour  his  design.  Mr. 
Tupman  and  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen  left  the  garden 
by  the  side  gate  just  as  he  obtained  a  view  of  it;  and 
the  young  ladies,  he  knew,  had  walked  out  alone,  soon 
after  breakfast.    The  coast  was  clear. 

The  breakfast-parlour  door  was  partially  open.  He 
peeped  in.  The  spinster  aunt  was  knitting.  He  coughed ; 
she  looked  up  and  smiled.  Hesitation  formed  no  part 
of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle's  character.  He  laid  his  finger 
on  his  lips  mysteriously,  walked  in  and  closed  the 
door. 

Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  with  affected  earnest- 
ness, forgive  intrusion — short  acquaintance — no  time 
for  ceremony — all  discovered." 

'SSir!"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  rather  astonished  by  the 
unexpected  apparition  and  somewhat  doubtful  of  Mr. 
Jingle's  sanity. 

''Hush!"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  in  a  stage  whisper — ''large 
boy — dumpling  face — round  eyes — rascal!"  Here  he 
shook  his  h(nid  expressively,  and  the  sjjinster  aunt  trem- 
bled with  agitation. 


110  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

I  presume  you  allude  to  Joseph,  sir?"  said  the  lady, 
making  an  effort  to  appear  composed. 

"Yes,  ma'am — damn  that  Joe! — treacherous  dog,  Joe 
— told  the  old  lady — old  lady  furious — wild — raving — 
arbour — Tupman — kissing  and  hugging — all  that  sort  of 
thing — eh,  ma'am — eh?" 

''Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  *'if  you  come 
here,  sir,  to  insult  me  — ' 

"  Not  at  all — by  no  means,"  replied  the  unabashed  Mr. 
Jingle;  "  overheard  the  tale — came  to  warn  you  of  your 
danger — tender  my  services — prevent  the  hubbub.  Never 
mind — think  it  an  insult — leave  the  room" — and  he 
turned,  as  if  to  carry  the  threat  into  execution. 

''What  shall  I  do!"  said  the  poor  spinster,  bursting 
into  tears.    "  My  brother  will  be  furious!" 

"Of  course  he  will,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  pausing — "out- 
rageous." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Jingle,  what  can  I  say!"  exclaimed  the  spin- 
ster aunt,  in  another  flood  of  despair. 

"Say  he  dreamt  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle,  coolly. 

A  ray  of  comfort  darted  across  the  mind  of  the  s|)inster 
aunt  at  this  suggestion.  Mr.  Jingle  perceived  it,  and 
followed  up  his  advantage. 

"  Pooh,  pooh! — nothing  more  easy — blackguard  boy — 
lovely  woman — fat  boy  horsewhipped— you  believed — 
end  of  the  matter — all  comfortable." 

Whether  the  probability  of  escaping  from  the  conse- 
quences of  this  ill-timed  discovery  was  delightful  to  the 
spinster's  feelings,  or  whether  the  hearing  herself 
described  as  a  "lovely  woman"  softened  the  asperity  of 
her  grief,  we  know  not.  She  blushed  slightly,  and  cast 
a  grateful  look  on  Mr.  Jingle. 

That  insinuating  gentleman  sigted  deeply,  fixed  his 
eyes  on  the  spinster  aunt's  face  foj  c  m]  jeof  minutes, 
started  melodramatically,  and  then  suddenly  withdrew 
them. 

"You  seem  unhappy,  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  lady,  in  a 
plaintive  voice.  "May  I  show  my  gratitude  for  your 
kind  interference  by  inquiring  into  th/  cause,  with  a 
view,  if  possible,  to  its  removal?" 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jinglj,  with  another  start — 
"removal!  remove  my  unhappiness,  and  your  love 
bestowed  upon  the  man  who  is  Insensible  to  the  blessing 
—who  even  now  coiitcmpiate^  a  do  igu  upon  the  affec- 


THE  PlCfcWICK  CLUB. 


Ill 


tions  of  the  niece  of  the  creature  who — but  no;  he  is  my 
friend;  I  will  not  expose  his  vices.  Miss  Wardle — fare- 
well!"  At  the  conclusion  of  this  address,  the  most  con- 
secutive he  was  ever  known  to  utter,  Mr.  Jingle  applied 
to  his  eyes  the  remnant  of  a  handkerchief  before 
noticed,  and  turned  towards  the  door. 

''Stay,  Mr.  Jingle!*'  said  the  spinster  aunt,  emphatic- 
ally. ''You  have  made  an  allusion  to  Mr.  Tupman— 
explain  it." 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Jingle,  with  a  professional  (i.e., 
theatrical)  air.  "Never!"  and,  by  way  of  showing  that 
he  had  no  desire  to  be  questioned  further,  he  drew  a  chair 
close  to  that  of  the  spinster  aunt  and  sat  down. 

"Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  aunt,  "I  entreat — I  implore 
you,  if  there  is  any  dreadful  mystery  connected  with  Mr. 
Tupman,  reveal  it." 

^'Can  I,"  said  Mr."  Jingle,  fixing  his  eyes  on  tftie  aunt's 
face — "  Can  I  see — lovely  creature — sacrificed  at  the 
shrine — heartless  avarice!"  He  appeared  to  be  strug- 
gling with  various  confiicting  emotions  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, and  then  said,  in  alow,  deep  voice: 

"  Tupman  only  wants  your  money." 

"  The  wretch!"  exclaimed  the  spinster,  with  energetic 
indignation.  (Mr.  Jingle's  doubts  were  resolved.  She 
had  money.) 

"More  than  that,"  said  Jingle — "loves  another." 

"  Another!"  ejaculated  the  spinster.    "  Who?" 

"Short  girl — black  eyes — niece  Emily." 

There  was  a  pause. 

Now,  if  there  were  one  individual  in  the  whole  world, 
of  whom  the  spinster  aunt  entertained  a  mortal  and 
deeply-rooted  jealousy,  it  was  this  identical  niece.  The 
colour  rushed  over  her  face  and  neck,  and  she  tossed 
her  head  in  silence,  with  an  air  of  ineffable  contempt. 
At  last,  biting  her  thin  lips,  and  bridling  up,  she  said: 

"  It  can't  be.    I  won't  believe  it." 

"Watch  'em,"  said  Jingle. 

"  I  will,"  said  the  aunt. 

"Watch  his  looks." 

"I  will." 

"His  whispeis." 

"I  will." 

"  He'll  sit  next  her  at  table." 
^'Let  him." 


112  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

He'll  flatter  her." 
''Let  him." 

He'll  pay  her  every  possible  attention." 
''Let  him." 
"And  he'll  cut  you." 

"  Cut  mer  screamed  the  spinster  aunt.  ''He  cut  me 
— will  he!"  and  she  trembled  with  rage  and  disappoint- 
ment. 

"You  will  convince  yourself?"  said  Jingle. 
"  I  wiU."^ 

"You'll  show  your  spirit?" 
"I  will." 

"You'll  not  have  him  afterwards?" 
"Never." 

"You'll  take  somebody  else?" 

"Yes." 

"You  shall." 

Mr.  Jingle  fell  on  his  knees,  remained  thereupon  for 
five  minutes  thereafter:  and  rose  the  at^cepted  lover  of 
the  spinster  aunt:  conditionally  upon  Mr.  Tupman's  per- 
jury being  made  clear  and  manifest. 

The  burden  of  proof  lay  with  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle;  and 
he  produced  his  evidence  that  very  day  at  dinner.  The 
spinster  aunt  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes.  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman  was  established  at  Emily's  side,  ogling,  whis- 
pering, and  smiling,  in  opposition  to  Mr.  Snodgrass. 
Not  a  word,  not  a  look,  not  a  glance,  did  he  bestow  upon 
his  heart's  pride  of  the  evening  before. 

"  Damn  that  boy!"  thought  old  Mr.  Wardle  to  himself. 
He  had  heard  the  story  from  his  mother.  "Damn 
that  boy!"  He  must  have  been  asleep.  It's  all  imagina- 
tion." 

"Traitor!"  thought  the  spinster  aunt.  "Dear  Mr. 
Jingle  was  not  deceiving  me.  Ugh!  how  I  hate  the 
wretch!" 

The  following  conversation  may  serve  to  explain  to 
our  readers  this  apparently  unaccountable  alteration  of 
deportment  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 

The  time  was  evening;  the  scene  the  garden.  There 
were  two  figures  walking  in  a  side  path;  one  was  rather 
short  and  stout;  the  other  rather  tall  and  slim.  They 
were  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Jingle.  The  stout  figure  com- 
menced the  dialogue. 

"How  did  I  do  it?"  he  inquired. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


113 


''Splendid — capital — couldn't  act  better  myself — you 
must  repeat  the  part  to-morrow — every  evening,  till  fur- 
ther notice." 

"  Does  Eachael  still  wish  it?" 

''Of  course — she  don't  like  it — but  must  be  done — avert 
suspicion — afraid  of  her  brother — says  there's  no  help 
for  it — only  few  days  more — when  old  folks  blinded — 
crown  your  happiness." 

' '  Any  message  ?" 

"  Love — best  love — kindest  regards — unalterable  affec- 
tion.   Can  I  say  anything  for  you?" 

"My  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  unsuspicious  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  fervently  grasping  his  "friend's"  hand — "carry 
my  best  love — say  how  hard  I  find  it  to  dissemble — say 
anything  that's  kind:  but  add  how  sensible  I  am  of  the 
necessity  of  the  suggestion  she  made  to  me,  through 
you,  this  morning.  Say  I  applaud  her  wisdom  and  ad- 
mire her  discretion." 

"  I  will.    Anything  more?" 

"  Nothing;  only  add  how  ardently  I  long  for  the  time 
when  I  may  call  her  mine,  and  all  dissimulation  may 
be  unnecessary." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.    Anything  more?" 

"  Oh,  my  friend!"  said  poor  Mr.  Tupman,  again  grasp- 
ing the  hand  of  his  companion,  "  receive  my  warmest 
thanks  for  your  disinterested  kindness;  and  forgive  me 
if  I  have  ever,  even  in  thought,  done  you  the  injustice 
of  supposing  that  you  could  stand  in  my  way.  My  dear 
friend,  can  I  ever  repay  you?" 

"  Don't  talk  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle.  He  stopped 
short,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  something,  and  said, 
"By-the-by — can't  spare  ten  pounds,  can  you? — very 
particular  purpose — pay  you  in  three  days." 

"I  dare  say  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  in  the  full- 
ness of  his  heart.    "Three  days,  you  say?" 

"  Only  three  days — all  over  then — no  more  difficulties." 

Mr.  Tupman  counted  the  money  into  his  companion's 
hand,  and  he  dropped  it  piece  by  piece  into  his  pocket, 
as  they  walked  towards  the  house. 

"  Be  careful,"  said  Mr.  Jingle;  "not  a  look." 

"Not  a  wink,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Not  a  syllable." 

"  Not  a  whisper." 

"  All  your  attentions  to  the  niece — rather  rude,  than 


114  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


otherwise,  to  the  aunt — only  way  of  deceiving  the  old 
ones." 

'Til take  care/'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  aloud. 
And  IHl  take  care,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  internally;  and 
they  entered  the  house. 

The  scene  of  that  afternoon  was  repeated  that  even- 
ing, and  on  the  three  afternoons  and  evenings  next  en- 
suing. On  the  fourth,  the  host  was  in  fine  spirits,  for 
he  had  satisfied  himself  that  there  was  no  ground  for 
the  charge  against  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was  Mr.  Tupman, 
for  Mr.  Jingle  had  told  him  that  his  affair  would  soon 
be  brought  to  a  crisis.  So  was  Mr.  Pickwick,  for  he  was 
seldom  otherwise.  So  was  not  Mr.  Snodgrass,  for  he  had 
grown  jealous  of  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was  the  old  lady,  for 
she  had  been  winning  at  whist.  So  were  Mr.  Jingle  and 
Miss  Wardle,  for  reasons  of  sufficient  importance  in  this 
eventful  history,  to  be  narrated  in  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  DISCOVERY  AND  A  CHASE. 

The  supper  was  ready  laid,  the  chairs  were  drawn 
round  the  table,  bottles,  jugs  and  glasses  were  arranged 
upon  the  sideboard,  and  everything  betokened  the  ap- 
proach of  the  most  convivial  period  in  the  whole  four- 
and-twenty  hours. 

''Where's  Rachael?"  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

''Aye,  and  Jingle?"  added  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  the  host,  "  I  wonder  I  haven't  missed 
him  before.  Why,  I  don't  think  I've  heard  his  voice  for 
two  hours  at  least.    Emily,  my  dear,  ring  the  bell. 

The  bell  was  rung,  and  the  fat  boy  appeared. 

"  Where's  Miss  Rachael?"    He  couldn't  say. 

"Where's  Mr.  Jingle,  then?"    He  didn't  know. 

Everybody  looked  surprised.  It  was  late — past  eleven 
o'clock.  Mr.  Tupman  laughed  in  his  sleeve.  They  were 
loitering  somewhere,  talking  about  him.  Ha,  ha!  capi- 
tal notion  that — funny. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Wardle,  after  a  short  pause; 
"they'll  turn  up  presently,  I  dare  say.  I  never  wait 
supper  for  anybody." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


115 


''Excellent  rule,  that/' said  Mr.  Pickwick;  ''admir- 
able." 

"Pray,  sit  down,"  said  the  host. 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick:  and  down  they  sat. 

There  was  a  gigantic  round  of  cold  beef  on  the  table, 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  supplied  with  a  plentiful  portion 
of  it.  He  had  raised  his  fork  to  his  lips,  and  was  on  the 
very  point  of  opening  his  mouth  for  the  reception  of  a 
piece  of  beef,  when  the  hum  of  many  voices  suddenly 
arose  in  the  kitchen.  He  paused  and  laid  down  his  fork. 
Mr.  Wardle  paused  too,  and  insensibly  released  his  hold 
of  the  carving-knife,  which  remained  inserted  in  the 
beef.  He  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr.  Pickwick  looked 
at  him. 

Heavy  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  passage;  the  par- 
lour door  was  suddenly  burst  open;  and  the  man  who 
had  cleaned  Mr.  Pickwick's  boots  on  his  first  arrival 
rushed  into  the  room,  followed  by  the  fat  boy  and  all 
the  domestics. 

"  What  the  devil's  the  meaning  of  this?  "  exclaimed 
the  host. 

"  The  kitchen  chimney  ain't  a-fire,  is  it,  Emma?"  in- 
quired the  old  lady. 

"  Lor,  grandma!  No,"  screamed  both  the  young  ladies. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  roared  the  master  of  the  house. 

The  man  gasped  for  breath,  and  faintly  ejaculated: 

"They  ha'  gone,  mas'rl — gone  right  clean  off,  sir!" 
(At  this  juncture  Mr  Tupman  was  observed  to  lay  down 
his  knife  and  fork,  and  to  turn  very  pale.) 

"  Who's  gone?"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  fiercely. 

"Mus'r  Jingle  and  Miss  Rachael,  in  a  po'-chay,  from 
Blue  Lion,  Muggleton.  I  was  there;  but  I  couldn't  stop 
'em;  so  I  run  off  to  tell  'ee." 

"I  paid  his  expenses!"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  jumping  up 
frantically.  He's  gotten  pounds  of  mine! — stop  him! — 
he's  swindled  me! — I  won't  bear  it! — I'll  have  justice, 
Pickwick! — I  won't  stand  it!"  and  with  sundry  inco- 
herent exclamations  of  the  like  nature,  the  unhappy 
gentleman  spun  round  and  round  the  apartment,  in  a 
transport  of  frenzy. 

"Lord  preserve  us!  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  eyeing 
the  extraordinary  gestures  of  his  friend  with  terrified 
surprise.    "  He's  gone  mad!    What  shall  wo  do! " 

"Do!"  said  the  stout  old  host,  wlio  regarded  only  the 


116 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


last  words  of  the  sentence.  ''Put  the  horse  in  the  gig! 
I'll  get  .a  chaise  at  the  Lion,  and  follow  'em  instantly. 
Where" — he  exclaimed,  as  the  man  ran  out  to  execute 
the  commission — "  Where's  that  villain,  Joe?" 

"  Here  I  am;  but  I  han't  a  willin,"  replied  a  voice.  It 
was  the  fat  boy's. 

''Let  me  get  at  him,  Pickwick!"  cried  Wardle,  as  he 
^  rushed  at  the  ill-starred  youth.  "  He  was  bribed  by  that 
scoundrel,  Jingle,  to  put  me  on  a  wrong  scent,  by  telling 
a  cock-and-a-bull  story  of  my  sister  and  your  friend 
Tupman ! "  (Here  Mr.  Tupman  sunk  into  a  chair. )  ' '  Let 
me  get  at  him!" 

"Don't  let  himj"  screamed  all  the  women,  above 
whose  exclamations  the  blubbering  of  the  fat  boy  was 
distinctly  audible. 

"  I  won't  be  held!  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  Mr.  Winkle, 
take  your  hands  oft!    Mr.  Pickwick,  let  me  go,  sir!" 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  in  that  moment  of  turmoil 
and  confusion,  to  behold  the  placid  and  philosophical 
expression  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  face,  albeit  somewhat 
flushed  with  exertion,  as  he  stood  with  his  arms  firmly 
clasped  round  the  extensive  waist  of  their  corpulent 
host,  thus  restraining  the  impetuosity  of  his  passion, 
while  the  fat  boy  was  scratched,  and  pulled,  and  pushed 
from  the  room  by  all  the  females  congregated  therein. 
He  had  no  sooner  released  his  hold,  than  the  man 
entered  to  announce  that  the  gig  was  ready. 

"Don't  let  him  go  alone!"  screamed  the  females. 
"He'll  kill  somebody!" 

"  I'll  go  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"You're  a  good  fellow,  Pickwick,"  said  the  host, 
grasping  his  hand.  "  Emma,  give  Mr.  Pickwick  a  shawl 
to  tie  round  his  neck — make  haste.  Look  after  your 
grandmother,  girls;  she  has  fainted  away.  Now  then, 
are  you  ready?" 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth  and  chin  having  been  hastily 
enveloped  in  a  large  shawl,  his  hat  having  been  put  on 
his  head,  and  his  great  coat  thrown  over  his  arm,  he  re- 
plied in  the  affirmative. 

They  jumped  into  the  gig.  "  Give  her  her  head, 
Tom,"  cried  the  host;  and  away  they  went,  down  the 
narrow  lanes;  jolting  in  and  out  of  the  cart-ruts,  and 
bumping  up  against  the  hedggs  on  either  side,  as  if  they 
would  go  to  pieces  every  moment. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


117 


''How  much  are  they  ahead?"  shouted  Wardle,  as 
they  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the  Bhie  Lion,  round  which 
a  little  crowd  had  collected,  late  as  it  was. 

''Not  above  three-quarters  of  an  hour/'  was  every- 
body's reply. 

"  Chaise  and  four  directly! — out  with  'em!  Put  up  the 
gig  afterwards. " 

''Now,  boys!"  cried  the  landlord — "chaise  and  four 
out — make  haste — look  alive  there!  " 

Away  ran  the  hostlers,  and  the  boys.  The  lanterns 
glimmered,  as  the  men  ran  to  and  fro;  the  horses'  hoofs 
clattered  on  the  uneven  paving  of  the  yard;  the  chaise 
rumbled  as  it  was  drawn  out  of  the  coach-house;  and 
all  was  noise  and  bustle. 

"Now  then — is  that  chaise  coming  out  to-night?" 
cried  Wardle. 

"  Coming  down  the  yard  now,  sir,"  replied  the  hostler. 

Out  came  the  chaise — in  went  the  horses — on  sprung 
the  boys — in  got  the  travellers. 

"Mind — the  seven-mile  stage  in  less  than  half  an 
hour!"  shouted  Wardle. 

"Off  with  you!" 

The  boys  applied  whip  and  spur,  the  waiters  shouted, 
the  hostlers  cheered,  and  away  they  went,  fast  and 
furiously. 

"Pretty  situation,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he 
had  had  a  moment's  time  for  reflection.  "Pretty  situ- 
ation for  the  General  Chairman  of  the  Pickwick  Club. 
Damp  chaise — strange  horses — fifteen  miles  an  hour — 
and  twelve  o'clock  at  night!" 

For  the  first  three  or  four  miles,  not  a  word  was 
spoken  by  either  of  the  gentlemen,  each  being  too  much 
immersed  in  his  own  reflections  to  address  any  observa- 
tions to  his  companion.  When  they  had  gone  over  that 
much  ground,  however,  and  the  horses,  getting  thor- 
oughly warmed,  began  to  do  their  work  in  really  good 
style,  Mr.  Pickwick  became  too  much  exhilarated  with 
tlie  rapidity  of  ^the  motion  to  remain  any  longer  per- 
fectly mute. 

"We're  sure  to  catch  them,  I  think,"  said  he. 

"Hope  so,"  replied  his  companion. 

"Fine  night."  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up  at  the 
moon,  which  Was  shining  brigfitly. 

"So  much  tho  Wor^o,"  returiiuci  Wardle;  '*for  they'll 


118 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


have  had  all  the  advantage  of  the  moonlight  to  get  the 
start  of  us,  and  we  shall  lose  it.  It  will  have  gone 
down  in  another  hour." 

"It  will  be  rather  unpleasant  going  at  this  rate  in 
the  dark,  won't  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  dare  say  it  will,"  replied  his  friend,  drily. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  temporary  excitement  began  to  sober 
down  a  little,  as  he  reflected  upon  the  inconvenience;^ 
and  dangers  of  the  expedition  in  which  he  had  so 
thoughtlessly  embarked.  He  was  roused  by  a  loud 
shouting  of  the  post-boy  on  the  leader. 

Yo — yo — yo — yo — yoe!"  went  the  first  boy. 

"  Yo — yo — yo — yoe!"  went  the  second. 

''Yo — yo — yo— yoe!"  chimed  in  old  Wardle  himself, 
most  lustily,  with  his  head  and  half  his  body  out  of  the 
coach  window. 

'' Yo — yo — yo — yoe!"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  up 
the  burden  of  the  cry,  though  he  had  not  the  slightest 
notion  of  its  meaning  or  object.  And  amidst  the  yo— 
yoing  of  the  whole  four,  the  chaise  stopped. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''There's  a  gate  here,"  replied  old  Wardle.  "AVe 
shall  hear  something  of  the  fugitives." 

After  a  lapse  of  five  minutes,  consumed  in  incessant 
knocking  and  shouting,  an  old  man  in  his  shirt  and 
trousers  emerged  from  the  turnpike  house,  and  opened 
the  gate. 

"How  long  is  it  since  a  post-chaise  went  through 
here?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle. 
"How  long?" 
"Ah!" 

"Why,  I  don't  rightly  know.  It  worn't  a  long  time 
ago,  nor  it  worn't  a  short  time  ago — just  ^between  the 
two,  perhaps." 

"  Has  any  chaise  been  by  at  all?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  there's  been  a  chay  by." 

"  How  long  ago,  my  friend,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick; 
"  an  hour?" 

"Ah,  I  dare  say  it  might  be,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Or  two  hours?"  inquired  the  post-boy  on  the  wheeler. 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was,"  returned  the  old 
man,  doubtfully. 

"Drive  on,  boys,"  cried  the  testy  old  gentleman: 
"  don't  w^aste  any  more  time  w^ith  that  old  idiot!" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


119 


Idiot!''  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  a  grin,  as  he 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road  with  the  gate  half  closed, 
watching  the  chaise,  which  rapidly  diminished  in  the 
increasing  distance.  ''No — not  much  o'  that,  either; 
you've  lost  ten  minutes  here,  and  gone  away  as  wise  as 
you  came,  arter  all.  If  every  man  on  the  line  as  has  a 
guinea  give  him  earns  it  half  as  well,  you  w^on't  catch 
t'other  chay  this  side  Mich'lmas,  old  short  and  fat." 
And,  with  another  prolonged  grin,  the  old  man  closed 
the  gate,  re-entered  his  house,  and  bolted  the  door  after 
him. 

Meanwhile  the  chaise  proceeded,  without  any  slack- 
ing of  pace,  towards  the  conclusion  of  the  stage.  The 
moon,  as  War  die  had  foretold,  was  rapidly  on  the  wane; 
large  tiers  of  dark,  heavy  clouds,  which  had  been  gradu- 
ally overspreading  the  sky  for  some  time  past,  now 
formed  one  black  mass  over  head;  and  large  drops  of 
rain,  which  pattered  every  now  and  then  against  the 
windows  of  the  chaise,  seemed  to  warn  the  travellers  of 
the  rapid  approach  of  a  stormy  night.  The  wind,  too, 
which  was  directly  against  them,  swept  in  furious  gusts 
down  the  narrow  road,  and  howled  dismally  through 
the  trees  which  skirted  the  pathway.  Mr.  Pickwick 
drew  his  coat  closer  about  him,  coiled  himself  more 
snugly  up  in  the  corner  of  the  chaise,  and  fell  into  a 
sound  sleep,  from  which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the 
stopping  of  the  vehicle,  the  sound  of  the  hostler's  bell, 
and  a  loud  cry  of  ''Horses  on  directly!" 

But  here  another  delay  occurred.  The  boys  were 
sleeping  with  such  mysterious  soundness,  that  it  took 
five  minutes  apiece  to  wake  them.  The  hostler  had 
somehow  or  other  mislaid  the  key  of  the  stable,  and  even 
when  that  was  found,  two  sleepy  helpers  put  the  wrong 
harness  on  the  wrong  horses,  and  the  whole  process  of 
harnessing  had  to  be  gone  through  afresh.  Had  Mr. 
Pickwick  been  alone,  these  multiplied  obstacles  would 
have  completely  put  an  end  to  the  pursuit  at  once,  but 
old  Wardle  was  not  to  be  so  easily  daunted;  and  he  laid 
about  him  with  such  hearty  good-will,  cuffing  this  man, 
and  pushing  that;  strapping  a  buckle  here,  and  taking 
in  a  link  there,  that  the  chaise  was  ready  in  a  much 
shorter  time  than  could  reasonably  have  been  expected, 
under  so  many  difficulties. 

They  resumed  their  journey;  and  certainly  tlie  pros- 


120  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


pect  before  them  was  by  no  means  encouraging.  The 
stage  was  fifteen  miles  long,  the  night  was  dark,  the 
wind  high,  and  the  rain  pouring  in  torrents.  It  was 
impossible  to  make  any  great  way  against  such  obsta- 
cles united;  it  was  hard  upon  one  o'clock  already;  and 
nearly  two  hours  were  consumed  in  getting  to  the  end 
of  the  stage.  Here,  however,  an  object  presented  itself 
which  rekindled  their  hopes,  and  re-animated  their 
drooping  spirits. 

When  did  this  chaise  come  in?"  cried  old  Wardle, 
leaping  out  of  his  own  vehicle,  and  pointing  to  one 
covered  with  wet  mud,  which  was  standing  in  the 
yard. 

"  Not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  sir,"  replied  the  host- 
ler, to  whom  the  question  was  addressed. 

''Lady  and  gentleman?"  inquired  Wardle,  almost 
breathless  with  impatience. 

''Yes,  sir." 

"  Tall  gentleman — dress  coat — long  legs^thin  body?  " 
"Yes,  sir." 

"Elderly  lady — thin  face — rather  skinny — eh?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"By  Heavens,  it's  the  couple,  Pickwick,"  exclaimed 
the  old  gentleman. 

"Would  have  been  here  before,"  said  the  hostler, 
"  but  they  broke  a  trace." 

"It  is!"  said  Wardle,  "it  is,  by  Jove!  Chaise  and 
four  instantly!  We  shall  catch  them  yet,  before  they 
reach  the  next  stage.  A  guinea  apiece,  boys — be  alive 
there — bustle  about — there's  good  fellows." 

And  with  such  admonitions  as  these,  the  old  gentle- 
man ran  up  and  down  the  yard,  and  bustled  to  and  fro, 
in  a  state  of  excitement  which  communicated  itself  to 
Mr.  Pickwick  also;  and  under  the  influence  of  which 
that  gentleman  got  himself  into  complicated  entangle- 
ments with  harness,  and  mixed  up  with  horses  and 
wheels  of  chaises,  in  the  most  surprising  manner,  firmly 
believing  that  by  so  doing  he  was  materially  forward- 
ing the  preparations  for  their  resuming  their  journey. 

"  Jump  in — jump  in!  "  cried  old  Wardle,  climbing  into 
the  chaise,  pulling  up  the  steps,  and  slamming  the  door 
after  him.  "Come  along!  Make  haste!"  And  before 
Mr.  Pickwick  knew  precisely  what  he  was  about,  he  felt 
himself  forced  in  at  the  other  dooi%  by  one  pull  from  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


121 


old  gentleman,  and  one  push  from  the  hostler;  and  off 
they  were  again. 

Ah!  we  are  moving  now,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
exultingly.  They  were  indeed,  as  was  sufficiently  testi- 
fied to  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  his  constant  collisions  either 
with  the  hard  wood-work  of  the  chaise,  or  the  body  of 
his  companion. 

''Hold  up!"  said  the  stout  old  Mr.  Wardle,  as  Mr. 
Pickwick  dived  headforemost  into  his  capacious  waist- 
coat. 

''I  never  did  feel  such  a  jolting  in  my  life,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''Never  mind,"  replied  his  companion,  "  it  '11  soon  be 
over.    Steady,  steady." 

Mr.  Pickwick  planted  himself  into  his  own  corner,  as 
firmly  as  he  could;  and  on  whirled  the  chaise  faster 
than  ever. 

They  had  travelled  in  this  way  about  three  miles,  when 
Mr.  Wardle,  who  had  been  looking  out  of  the  window 
for  two  or  three  minutes,  suddenly  drew  in  his  face, 
covered  with  splashes,  and  exclaimed,  in  breathless 
eagerness: 

"  Here  they  are!" 

Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  his  window.  Yes, 
there  was  a  chaise  and  four,  a  short  distance  before 
them,  dashing  along  at  full  gallop. 

"Go  on,  go  on,"  almost  shrieked  the  old  gentleman. 
"Two  guineas  apiece,  boys — don't  let  'em  gain  on  us — 
keep  it  up — keep  it  up." 

The  horses  in  the  first  chaise  started  on  at  their 
utmost  speed;  and  those  in  Mr.  Wardle's  galloped  furi- 
ously behind  them. 

"  I  see  his  head,"  exclaimed  the  choleric  old  man. 
"Damme,  I  see  his  head." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "that's  he." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  mistaken.  The  countenance 
of  Mr.  Jingle,  completely  coated  with  the  mud  thrown 
up  by  the  wheels,  was  plainly  discernible  at  the  window 
or  his  chaise;  and  the  motion  of  his  arm,  which  he  was 
waving  violently  towards  the  postilions,  denoted  that  he 
was  encouraging  them  to  increased  exertion. 

The  interest  was  intc^nse.  Fields,  trees,  and  hedges 
seemed  to  rush  past  them  with  the  velocity  of  a  wlurl- 
wind,  so  raj)id  was  the  pace  at  whi(-h  they  tore  along. 


122 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


They  we,  e  close  by  the  side  of  the  first  chaise.  Jingle's 
voice  could  be  plainly  heard,  even  above  the  din  of  the 
wheels,  urging  on  the  boys.  Old  Mr.  Wardle  foamed 
with  rage  and  excitement.  He  roared  out  scoundrels 
and  villains  by  the  dozen,  clenched  his  fist  and  shook  it 
expressively  at  the  object  of  his  indignation;  but  Mr. 
Jingle  only  answered  with  a  contemptuous  smile,  and 
replied  to  his  menaces  by  a  shout  of  triumph,  as  his 
horses,  answering  the  increased  application  of  whip  and 
spur,  broke  into  a  faster  gallop,  and  left  the  pursuers 
behind. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  just  drawn  in  his  head,  and  Mr. 
Wardle,  exhausted  with  shouting,  had  done  the  same, 
when  a  tremendous  jolt  threw  them  forward  against 
the  front  of  the  vehicle.  There  was  a  sudden  bump — a 
loud  crash — away  rolled  a  wheel,  and  over  went "  the 
chaise. 

After  a  very  few  seconds  of  bewilderment  and  con- 
fusion, in  which  nothing  but  the  plunging  of  horses,  and 
breaking  of  glass,  could  be  made  out,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt 
himself  violently  pulled  out  from  among  the  ruins  of 
the  chaise;  and  as  soon  as  he  had  gained  his  feet,  extri- 
cated his  head  from  the  skirts  of  his  great  coat,  which 
materially  impeded  the  usefulness  of  his  spectacles,  the 
full  disaster  of  the  case  met  his  view. 

Old  Mr.  Wardle,  without  a  hat,  and  his  clothes  torn 
in  several  places,  stood  by  his  side,  and  the  fragments 
of  the  chaise  lay  scattered  at  their  feet.  The  post-boys, 
who  had  succeeded  in  cutting  the  traces,  were  standing, 
disfigured  with  mud,  and  disordered  by  hard  riding,  by 
the  horses'  heads.  About  a  hundred  yards  in  advance 
was  the  other  chaise,  which  had  pulled  up  on  hearing 
the  crash.  The  postilions,  each  with  a  broad  grin  con- 
vulsing his  countenance,  were  viewing  the  adverse  party 
from  their  saddles,  and  Mr.  Jingle  was  contemplating 
the  wreck  from  the  coach-window  with  evident  satis- 
faction. The  day  was  just  breaking,  and  the  whole 
scene  was  rendered  perfectly  visible  by  the  grey  light  of 
the  morning. 

''Hallo!''  shouted  the  shameless  Jingle,  ''anybody 
damaged? — elderly  gentlemen — no  light  weights — dan- 
gerous work — very." 

"You're  a  rascal!"  roared  Wardle. 

"  Ha!  ha!"  replied  Jingle;  and  then  he  added,  with  a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


123 


knowing  wink,  and  a  jerk  of  the  thumb  towards  the 
interior  of  the  chaise — ''I  say — she's  very  well — desires 
her  compliments — begs  you  won't  trouble  yourself — love 
to  Tuppy — won't  you  get  up  behind? — drive  on,  boys." 

The  postilions  resumed  their  proper  attitudes,  and 
away  rattled  tj^ie  chaise,  Mr.  Jingle  fluttering  in  derision 
a  white  handkerchief  from  the  coach-window. 

Nothing  in  the  whole  adventure,  not  even  the  upset, 
had  disturbed  the  calm  and  equable  current  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's  temper.  The  villainy,  however,  which  could 
first  borrow  money  of  his  faithful  follower,  and  then 
abbreviate  his  name  to  ''Tuppy,"  was  more  than  he 
could  patiently  bear.  He  drew  his  breath  hard,  and 
coloured  up  to  the  very  tips  of  his  spectacles,  as  he  said, 
slowly  and  emphatically: 

"  If  ever  I  meet  that  man  again,  I'll — " 
Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Wardle,  ''that's  all  very  well: 
but  while  we  stand  talking  here,  they'll  get  their  licence, 
and  be  married  in  London.'^ 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  bottled  up  his  vengeance,  and 
corked  it  down. 

"How  far  is  it  to  the  next  stage?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle 
of  one  of  the  boys. 

"Six  mile,  ain't  it,  Tom?" 

"Rayther  better." 

"  Rayther  better  nor  six  mile,  sir." 

"Can't  be  helped,"  said  Wardle,  "we  must  walk  it, 
Pickwick." 

"  No  help  for  it,"  replied  that  truly  great  man. 

So  sending  forward  one  of  the  boys  on  horseback,  to 
procure  a  fresh  chaise  and  horses,  and  leaving  the  other 
behind  to  take  care  of  the  broken  one,  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Wardle  set  manfully  forward  on  the  walk,  first  tying 
their  shawls  round  their  necks,  and  slouching  down  their 
hats  to  escape  as  much  as  possible  from  the  deluge  of  the 
rain,  which,  after  a  slight  cessation,  had  again  begun  to 
pour  heavily  down. 


124 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  X. 

CLEARING  UP  ALL  DOUBTS  (iF  ANY  EXISTED)  OF  THE  DISIN- 
TERESTEDNESS OF  MR.  jingle's  CHiftlACTER. 

There  are  in  London  several  old  inns,  once  the  head- 
quarters of  celebrated  coaches  in  the  days  when  coaches 
performed  their  journeys  in  a  graver  and  more  solemn 
manner  than  they  do  in  these  times ;  but  which  have  now 
degenerated  into  littlo  more  than  the  abiding  and  book- 
ing places  of  country  wagons.  The  reader  would  look 
in  vain  for  any  of  these  ancient  hostelries,  among  the 
Golden  Crosses  and  Bull  and  Mouths,  which  rear  their 
stately  fronts  in  the  improved  streets  of  London.  If  he 
would  light  upon  any  of  these  old  places,  ho  must 
direct  his  steps  to  the  obscure'r  quarters  of  the  town;  and 
there  in  some  secluded  nooks  he  will  find  several,  still 
standing  with  a  kind  of  gloomy  sturdiness,  amidst  the 
modern  innovations  which  surround  them. 

In  the  Borough,  especially,  there  still  remain  some 
half  dozen  old  inns,  which  have  preserved  their  external 
features  unchanged,  and  which  have  escaped  alike  the 
rage  for  public  improvement,  and  the  encroachments  of 
private  speculation.  Great,  rambling,  queer,  old  pla^ces 
they  are,  with  galleries,  and  passages,  and  stair-cases, 
wide  enough,  and  antiquated  enough,  to  furnish  materials 
for  a  hundred  ghost  stories,  supposing  we  should  ever  be 
reduced  to  the  lamentable  necessity  of  inventing  any, 
and  that  the  world  should  exist  long  enough  to  exhaust 
the  innumerable  veracious  legends  connected  with  old 
London  Bridge,  and  its  adjacent  neighbourhood  on  the 
Surrey  side. 

It  was  in  the  yard  of  one  of  these  inns — of  no  less  cele- 
brated a  one  than  the  White  Hart — that  a  man  was 
busily  employed'  in  brushing  the  dirt  off  a  pair  of  boots, 
early  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  events  narrated  in 
the  last  chapter.  He  was  habited  in  a  coarse  striped 
waistcoat,  with  black  calico  sleeves,  and  blue  glass 
buttons;  drab  breeches  and  leggings.  A  bright  red 
handkerchief  was  wound  in  a  very  loose  and  unstudied 
style  round   his  neck,  and  an  old  white  hat  was 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


125 


carelessly  thrown  on  one  side  of  his  head.  There  were 
two  rows  of  boots  before  him,  one  cleaned  and  the  other 
dirty,  and  at  every  addition  he  made  to  the  clean  row, 
he  paused  from  his  work,  and  contemplated  its  results 
with  evident  satisfaction. 

The  yard  presented  none  of  that  bustle  and  activity 
which  are  the  usual  characteristics  of  a  large  coach  inn. 
Three  or  four  lumbering  wagons,  ^ch  with  a  pile  of 
goods  beneath  its  ample  canopy,  about  the  height  of 
the  second-floor  window  of  an  ordinary  house,  were 
stowed  away  beneath  a  lofty  roof  which  extended  over 
one  end  of  the  yard;  and  another,  v/hich  was  probably 
to  commence  its  journey  that  morning,  was  drawn  out 
into  the  open  space.  A  double  tier  of  bed-room  gal- 
leries, with  old  clumsy  balustrades,  ran  round  two  sides 
of  the  straggling  area,  and  a  double  row  of  bells  to  corre- 
spond, sheltered  from  the  weather  by  a  little  sloping  roof, 
hung  over  the  door  leading  to  the  bar  and  coffee-room. 
Two  or  three  gigs  and  chaise-carts  were  wheeled  up 
under  different  little  sheds  and  pent-houses;  and  the  oc- 
casional heavy  tread  of  a  cart-horse,  or  rattling  of  a 
chain  at  the  further  end  of  the  yard,  announced  to  any- 
body who  cared  about  the  matter,  that  the  stable  lay  in 
that  direction.  When  we  add  that  a  few  boys  in  smock 
frocks  were  lying  asleep  on  heavy  packages,  woolpacks, 
and  other  articles  that  were  scattered  about  on  heaps  of 
straw,  we  have  described,  as  fully  as  need  be,  the  gen- 
eral appearance  of  the  yard  of  the  White  Hart  inn. 
High  Street,  Borough,  on  the  particular  morning  in 
question. 

A  loud  ringing  of  one  of  the  bells  was  followed  by 
the'  api)earance  of  a  smart  chambermaid  in  the  upper 
sleeping  gallery,  who,  after  tapping  at  one  of  the  doors, 
and  receiving  a  request  from  within,  called  over  the 
balustrades: 

^^Sam!" 

"  Hallo!  "  replied  the  man  with  the  w]^ite  hat. 
Number  twenty-two  wants  his  boots." 

"Ask  number  twenty -two,  whether  he'll  have  'em 
now,  or  wait  till  he  gets  'em,"  was  the  reply. 

''Come,  don't  be  a  fool,  Sam,"  said  the  girl,  coaxingly, 

the  gentleman  wants  his  boots  directly." 

''Well,  you  are  a  nice  youiig  'ooman  for  a  musical 
party,  you  are,"  said  the  boot-cleaner.    ''Look  at  thc^se 


126  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


here  boots— eleven  pair  o'  boots;  and  one  shoe  as  b'longs 
to  number  six,  with  the  wooden  leg.  The  eleven  boots 
is  to  be  called  at  half-past  eight  and  the  shoe  at  nine. 
Who's  number  twenty -two,  that's  to  put  all  the  others 
out?  No,  no;  reg'lar  rotation,  as  Jack  Ketch  said,  wen 
he  tied  the  men  up.  Sorry  to  keep  you  a  waitin',  sir, 
but  I'll  attend  to  you  directly." 

Saying  which,  tho*man  in  the  white  hat  set  to  work 
upon  a  top-boot  with  increased  assiduity. 

There  was  another  loud  ring;  and  the  bustling  old 
landlady  of  the  White  Hart  made  her  appearance  in 
the  opposite  gallery. 

Sam,"  cried  the  landlady,  where's  that  lazy,  idle — 
why,  Sam — oh,  there  you  are;  -^hy  don't  you  answer?" 

Wouldn't  be  gen-teel  to  answer  'till  you'd  done  talk- 
ing," replied  Sam,  gruffly. 

'^Here,  clean  them  shoes  for  number  seventeen  di- 
rectly, and  take  'em  to  private  sitting-room  number  five, 
first  floor. '^ 

The  landlady  flung  a  pair  of  lady's  shoes  into  the 
yard,  and  bustled  away.. 

Number  flve,"  said  Sam,  as  he  picked  up  the  shoes, 
and  taking  a  piece  of  chalk  from  his  pocket,  made  a 
memorandum  of  their  destination  on  the  soles — ''Lady's 
shoes  and  private  sittin'-room!  I  suppose  she  didn't 
come  in  the  waggin." 

''She  came  in  early  this  morning,"  cried  the  girl,  who 
was  still  leaning  over  the  railing  of  the  gallery,  "with 
a  gentleman  in  a  hackney  coach,  and  it's  him  as  wants 
his  boots,  and  you'd  better  do  'em,  that's  all  about  it." 

''Vy  didn't  you  say  so  before?"  said  Sam,  with  great 
indignation,  singling  out  the  boots  in  question  from  fhe 
heap  before  him.  "  For  all  I  know'd,  he  vas  one  o'  the 
regular  three-pennies.  Private  room!  and  a  lady  too! 
If  he's  anything  of  a  gen'lm'n,  he's  vorth  a  shilling  a 
day,  let  alone  the  arrands." 

Stimulated  by ^ this  inspiring  reflection,  Mr.  Samuel 
brushed  away  with  such  hearty  good  will,  that  in  a  few 
minutes  the  boots  and  shoes,  with  a  polish  that  would 
have  struck  envy  to  the  soul  of  the  amiable  Mr.  War- 
ren (for  they  used  Day  and  Martin  at  the  White  Hart), 
had  arrived  at  the  door  of  number  flve. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  man's  voice,  in  reply  to  Sam's  rap 
at  the  door. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


127 


Sam  made  his  best  bow,  and  stepped  into  the  presence 
of  a  lady  and  gentleman  seated  at  breakfast.  Having 
oflSciously  deposited  the  gentleman's  boots  right  and 
left  at  his  feet,  and  the  lady's  shoes  right  and  left  at 
hers,  he  backed  towards  the  door. 

"  Boots,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Sir,"  said  Sam,  closing  the  door,  and  keeping  his 
hand  on  the  knob  of  the  lock. 

"  Do  you  know — what's  a-name — Doctors'  Com- 
mons ? " 

''Yes,  sir." 

''Where  is  it  ?" 

"Paul's  Church-yard,  sir;  low  archway  on  the  car- 
riage-side, bookseller's  at  one  corner,  hot-el  on  the  other, 
and  two  porters  in  the  middle  as  touts  for  licences." 

"  Touts  for  licences  !"  said  the  gentleman. 

"Touts  for  licences,"  replied  Sam.  "^Two  coves  in 
vhite  aprons — touches  their  hats  wen  you  walk  in — '  Li- 
cence, sir;  licence  ? '  Queer  sort,  them,  and  their  mas'rs 
too,  sir — Old  Bailey  Proctors — and  no  mistake." 

"  What  do  they  do  ?  "  inquired  the  gentleman. 

"Do!  You,  sir!  That  an't  the  wost  on  it,  neither. 
They  put  things  into  old  gen'lm'n's  heads  as  they  never 
dreamed  of.  My  father,  sir,  wos  a  coachman.  A  wido- 
v/er  he  wos,  and  fat  enough  for  anything — uncommon 
fat  to  be  sure.  His  missus  dies,  and  leaves  him  four 
hundred  pound.  Down  he  goes  to  the  Commons,  to  see 
the  lawyer  and  draw  the  blunt — worry  smart — top  boots 
on — nosegay  in  his  button-hole — broad-brimmed  tile — 
green  shawl — quite  the  gen'lm'n.  Goes  through  the 
archvay,  thinking  how  he  should  inwest  the  money — 
up  comes  the  touter,  touches  his  hat — '  Licence,  sir,  li- 
cence?'— 'What's  that?'  says  my  father. — 'Licence, 
sir,'  says  he. — '  What  licence  ?'  says  my  father. — 'Mar- 
riage licence',  says  the  touter. — '  Dash  my  veskit,'  says 
my  father,  'I  never  thought  o'  that.' — 'I  think  you 
wants  one,  sir,'  says  the  touter.  My  father  pulls  up, 
and  thinks  a  bit — 'No,'  says  he,  'damme,  I'm  too  old, 
b'sides  I'm  a  many  sizes  too  large,'  says  he. — '  Not  a  bit 
on  it,  sir,'  says  the  touter. — 'Think  not?'  says  my 
father. — '  I'm  sure  not,'  says  he  ;  '  we  married  a  gen'lm'n 
twice  your  size,  last  Monday.' — '  Did  you,  though?'  said 
my  father. — '  To  be  sure,  we  did,'  says  the  touter,  '  you're 
a  babby  to  him — this  way,  sir — this  way!'  and  sure 


128 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


enough  my  father  walks  arter  him,  like  a  tame  monkey 
behind  a  horgan,  into  a  little  back  office,  vere  a  feller 
Scit  among  dirty  papers  and  tin  boxes,  making  believe 
he  was  busy.  '  Pray  take  a  seat,  vile  I  makes  out  the 
affidavit,  sir,'  says  the  lawyer. — 'Thankee,  sir,'  says  my 
father,  and  down  he  sat,  and  stared  with  all  his  eyes, 
and  his  mouth  vide  open,  at  the  names  on  the  boxes. — 
'What's  your  name,  sir?'  says  the  lawyer. — 'Tony 
Weller,' says  my  father. — 'Parish,'  says  the  lawyer. — 
'  Belle  Savage,'  says  my  father;  for  he  stopped  there 
wen  he  drove  up,  and  he  know'd  nothing  about  parishes, 
he  didn't. — '  And  what's  the  lady's  name  ? '  says  the  law- 
yer. My  father  was  struck  all  of  a  heap.  '  Blessed  if  I 
know,'  says  he. — 'Not  know!'  says  the  lawyer. — 'No 
more  nor  you  do,'  says  my  father;  '  can't  I  put  that  in 
arterwards?' — '  Impossible  !' says  the  lawyer. — 'Wery 
well,'  says  my  father,  after  he'd  thought  a  moment, 
'put  down  Mrs.  Clarke.' — 'What  Clarke?'  says  the 
lawyer,  dipping  his  pen  in  the  ink. — '  Susan  Clarke, 
Markis  o'  Granby,  Dorking,'  says  my  father;  '  she'll 
have  me,  if  I  ask,  I  des-say — I  never  said  nothing  to 
her,  but  she'll  have  me,  I  know.'  The  licence  was  made 
out,  and  she  did  have  him,  and  what's  more  she's  got 
him  now  ;  and  I  never  had  any  of  the  four  hundred 
pound,  worse  luck.  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Sam., 
when  he  had  concluded,  "but  wen  I  gets  on  this  here 
grievance,  I  runs  on  like  a  new  barrow  vith  the  wheel 
greased,"  Having  said  which,  and  having  paused  for 
an  instant  to  see  whether  he  was  wanted  for  anything 
more,  Sam  left  the  room. 

"Half -past  nine— just  the  time — off  at  once;  "  said  the 
gentleman,  whom  we  need  hardly  introduce  as  Mr. 
Jingle. 

"Time — for  what?"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  coquet- 
tishly. 

"  Licence,  dearest  of  angels — give  notice  at  the  church 
— call  you  mine,  to-morrow," — said  Mr.  Jingle,  and  he 
squeezed  the  spinster  aunt's  hand. 

"  The  licence  !  "  said  Rachael,  blushing. 

"  The  licence,"  repeated  Mr.  Jingle — 

"  In  hurry,  post-haste  for  a  licence. 
In  hurry,  ding  dong,  I  come  back." 

"  How  you  run  on,"  said  Rachael. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  129 

Run  on — nothing  to  the  hours,  days,  weeks,  months, . 
years,  when  we're  united — run  on — they'll  fly  on — bolt — 
fizzle — steam-engine — thousand  horse-power  —  nothing 
to  it." 

"  Can't — can't  we  be  married  before  to-morrow  morn- 
ing ?  "  inquired  Rachael. 

''Impossible — can't  be — notice  at  the  church — leave 
licence  to-day — ceremony  come  off  to-morrow." 

"  I  am  so  terrified,  lest  my  brother  should  discover  ' 
us!"  said  Rachael. 

"  Discover — nonsense— too  much  shaken  by  the  break- 
down— besides — extreme  caution — gave  up  the  post- 
chaise — walked  on — took  a  hackney-coach — came  to  the 
Borough— last  place  in  the  world  that  he'd  look  in — ha! 
ha  I — capital  notion  that — very." 

'•Don't  be  long,"  said  the  spinster,  affection^ately,  as 
Mr.  Jingle  stuck  the  pinched-up  hat  on  his  head. 

"Long  away  from  you? — Cruel  charmer,"  and  Mr. 
Jingle  skipped  playfully  up  to  the  spinster  aunt,  im- 
printed a  chaste  kiss  upon  her  lips,  and  danced  out  of 
the  room. 

"  Dear  man! "  said  the  spinster,  as  the  door  closed  after 
him. 

"  Rum  old  girl,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  as  he  walked  down 
the  passage. 

It  is  painful  to  reflect  upon  the  perfidy  of  our  species; 
and  we  will  not,  therefore,  pursue  the  thread  of  Mr. 
Jingle's  meditations,  as  he  wended  his  way  to  Doctors' 
Commons.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  our  purpose  to  relate, 
that  escaping  the  snares  of  the  dragons  in  white  aprons, 
who  guard  the  entrance  to  that  enchanted  region,  he 
reached  the  Vicar  General's  office  in  safety,  and  having 
procured  a  highly  flattering  address  on  parchment,  from 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  to  his  "trusty  and  well-  ' 
beloved  Alfred  Jingle  and  Rachael  Wardle,  greeting," 
he  carefully  deposited  the  mystic  document  in  his 
pocket,  and  retraced  his  steps  in  triumph  to  the 
Borough. 

He  was  yet  on  his  way  to  the  White  Hart,  when  two 
plump  gentlemen  and  one  thin  one,  entered  the  yard, 
and  looked  round  in  search  of  some  authorized  person 
of  whom  they  could  make  a  few  inquiries.  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller  happened  to  be  at  that  moment  engaged  in  burn- 
ishing a  pair  of  painted  tops,  the  personal  property  of  a 


r 


130  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

farmer,  who  was  refreshing  himself  with  a  slight 
lunch  of  two  or  three  pounds  of  cold  beef,  and  a  pot 
or  two  of  porter,  after  the  fatigues  of  the  Borough 
market:  and  to  him  the  thin  gentleman  straightway 
advanced — 

''My  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman. 
You're  one  o'  the  adwice  gratis  order,"  thought  Sam, 

or  you  wouldn't  be  so  worry  fond  o'  me  all  at  once." 
But  he  only  said — ''Well,  sir." 

"My  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman,  with  a  con- 
ciliatory hem — "have  you  got  many  people  stopping 
here,  now?   Pretty  busy.  Eh?" 

Sam  stole  a  look  at  the  inquirer.  He  was  a  little  high- 
dried  man,  with  a  dark,  squeezed-up  face,  and  small, 
restless  black  eyes,  that  kept  winking  and  twinkling  on 
each  side  of  his  little  inquisitive  nose,  as  if  they  were 
playing  a  perpetual  game  of  bo-peep  with  that  feature. 
He  was  dressed  all  in  black,  with  boots  as  shiny  as  his 
eyes;  a  low  white  neckcloth,  and  a  clean  shirt  with  a 
frill  to  it.  A  gold  watch-chain  and  seals  depended 
from  his  fob.  He  carried  his  black  kid  gloves  in  his 
hands,  not  on  them;  and  as  he  spoke,  thrust  his  wrists 
beneath  his  coat-tails,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was 
in  the  habit  of  propounding  some  regular  posers. 

"  Pretty  busy,  eh?"  said  the  little  man. 

"Oh,  worry  well,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  "we  shan't  be 
bankrupts,  and  we  shan't  make  our  fort'ns.  We  eats 
our  biled  mutton  without  capers,  and  don't  care  for 
horse-radish  wen  ve  can  get  beef." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  little  man,  "  you're  a  wag,  ain't  you?" 

"  My  eldest  brother  was  troubled  with  that  com- 
plaint," said  Sam,  "  it  may  be  catching — I  used  to  sleep 
with  him." 

"  This  ia  a  curious  old  house  of  yours,"  said  the  little 
man,  looking  round  him. 

"  If  you'd  sent  word  you  was  a  coming,  we'd  ha'  had 
it  repaired,"  replied  the  imperturbable  Sam. 

The  little  man  seemed  rather  baffled  by  these  several 
repulses,  and  a  short  consultation  took  place  between 
him  and  the  two  plump  gentlemen.  At  its  conclusion 
the  little  man  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  an  oblong 
silver  box,  and  was  apparently  on  the  point  of  renewing 
the  conversation,  when  one  of  the  plump  gentlemen, 
who  in  addition  to  a  benevolent  countenance  possessed 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


131 


a  pair  of  spectacles,  and  a  pair  of  black  gaiters,  inter- 
fered— 

"  The  fact  of  the  matter  is/'  said  the  benevolent  gentle- 
man, "ihaX  my  friend  here  (pointing  to  the  other  plump 
gentleman),  will  give  you  half  a  guinea,  if  you'll 
answer  one  or  two—" 

"  Xow,  my  dear  sir — my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man, 
^^pray  allow  me — my  dear  sir,  the  very  first  principle  to 
be  observed  in  these  cases,  is  this:  if  you  place  a  matter 
in  the  hands  of  a  professional  man,  you  must  in  no  way 
interfere  in  the  progress  of  the  business ;  you  must  re- 
pose implicit  confidence  in  him.  Really,  Mr.  (he  turned 
to  the  other  plump  gentleman,  and  said) — I  forget  your 
friend's  name." 

"  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  for  it  was  no  other  than 
that  jolly  personage. 

Ah,  Pickwick — really  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  dear  sir,  ex- 
cuse me — I  shall  be  happy  to  receive  any  private  sug- 
gestions of  yours,  as  amicus  curice,  but  you  must  see  the 
impropriety  of  your  interfering  with  my  conduct  in  this 
case,  with  such  an  ad  captandum  argument,  as  the  offer 
of  half  a  guinea.  Really,  my  dear  sir,  really,"  and  the 
little  man  took  an  argumentative  pinch  of  snuff,  and 
looked  profound. 

"  My  only  wish,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  was  to  bring 
this  very  unpleasant  matter  to  as  speedy  a  close  as  pos- 

Quite  right — quite  right,"  said  the  little  man. 

'^With  which  view,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  I 
made  use  of  the  argument  which  my  experience  of  men 
has  taught  me  is  the  most  likely  to  succeed  in  any  case." 

Ay,  ay,"  said  the  little  man;  very  good,  very  good, 
indeed;  but  you  should  have  suggested  it  to  me.  My 
dear  sir,  I'm  quite  certain  you  cannot  be  ignorant  of  the 
extent  of  confidence  which  must  be  placed  in  profes- 
sional men.  If  any  authority  can  be  necessary  on  such 
a  point,  my  dear  sir,  let  me  refer  you  to  the  well-known 
case  in  Barnwell  and — " 

"  Never  mind  George  Barnwell,"  interrupted  Sam,  who 
had  remained  a  wondering  listener  during  this  short 
colloquy;  "  everybody  knows  vhat  sort  of  a  case  his  was, 
tho'  it's  always  been  my  opinion,  mind  you,  that  the 
young  'ooman  deserved  scragging  a  precious  sight  more 
than  he  did.    Hows'ever,  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 


132  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


You  want  me  to  accept  of  half  a  guinea.  Werry  well, 
Pm  agreeable:  I  can't  say  no  fairer  than  that,  can  I,  sir? 
(Mr.  Pickwick  smiled.)  Then  the  next  question  is,  what 
the  devil  do  you  want  with  me,  as  the  man  said  wen  he 
see  the  ghost?" 

We  want  to  know — "  said  Mr.  Wardle. 
^'  Now,  my  dear  sir — my  dear  sir,"  interposed  the  busy 
little  man. 

Mr.  Wardle  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was  silent. 

'^We  want  to  know/' said  the  little  man,  solemnly; 
"  and  we  ask  the  question  of  you,  in  order  that  we  may 
not  awaken  apprehensions  inside — we  want  to  know 
who  you've  got  in  this  house,  at  present. 

"  Who  there  is  in  the  house!"  said  Sam,  in  whose  mind 
the  inmates  were  always  represented  by  that  particular 
article  of  their  costume  which  came  under  his  immedi- 
ate superintendence.  "  There's  a  Y^ooden  leg  in  number 
six;  there's  a  pair  of  Hessians  in  thirteen;  there's  two 
pair  of  halves  in  the  commercial;  there's  these  here 
painted  tops  in  the  snuggery  inside  the  bar;  and  five 
more  tops  in  the  coffee-room." 

Nothing  more?"  said  the  little  man. 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  replied  Sam,  suddenly  recollecting 
himself.  ^'Yes;  there's  a  pair  of  Wellingtons  a 
good  deal  worn,  and  a  pair  o'  lady's  shoes,  in  number 
five." 

''What  sort  of  shoes?"  hastily  inquired  Wardle,  who, 
together  with  Mr.  Pickwick,  had  been  lost  in  bewilder- 
ment at  the  singular  catalogue  of  visitors. 

''Country  make,"  replied  Sam. 

"Any  maker's  name?" 

"Brown." 

"Where  of?" 

"Muggleton." 

"It  is  them,"  exclaimed  Wardle.  "  By  heavens,  we've 
found  them." 

"Hush!"  said  Sam.  "The  Wellingtons  has  gone  to 
Doctors'  Commons." 

'•  No,"  said  the  little  man. 
"Yes,  for  a  licence." 

"We're  in  time,"  exclaimed  Wardle.  "Show  us  the 
room;  not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost." 

"Pray,  my  dear  sir,  pray,"  said  the  little  man,  "cau- 
tion, caution."   He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  red  silk 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  '  133 


purse,  and  looked  very  hard  at  Sam  as  he  drew  out  a 
sovereign. 
Sam  grinned  expressively. 

"  Show  us  into  the  room  at  once,  without  announcing 
us/'  said  the  little  man,  ''and  it's  yours." 

Sam  threw  the  painted  tops  into  a  corner,  and  led  the 
way  through  a  dark  passage,  and  up  a  wide  staircase. 
He  paused  at  the  end  of  a  second  passage,  and  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  Here  it  is,"  whispered  the  attorney,  as  he  deposited 
the  money  in  the  hand  of  their  guide. 

The  man  stepped  forward  for  a  few  paces,  followed  by 
the  two  friends  and  their  legal  adviser.  He  stopped  at  a 
door. 

''Is  this  the  room?"  murmured  the  little  gentleman. 
Sam  nodded  assent. 

Old  Wardle  opened  the  door;  and  the  whole  three 
walked  into  the  room  just  as  Mr.  Jingle,  who  had  that 
moment  returned,  had  produced  the  licence  to  the  spin- 
ster aunt. 

The  spinster  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and,  throwing  her- 
self in  a  chair,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  Mr. 
Jingle  crumpled  up  the  licence,  and  thrust  it  into  his 
coat-pocket.  The  unwelcome  visitors  advanced  into  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

"  You — you  are  a  nice  rascal,  aren't  you  ?"  exclaimed 
Wardle,  breathless  with  passion. 

"  My  dear  sir,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  laying 
his  hat  on  the  table.  Pray,  consider — pray.  Defama- 
tion of  character  ;  action  for  damages.  Calm  yourself, 
my  dear  sir,  pray — " 

"  How  dare  you  drag  my  sister  from  my  house  ?  "  said 
the  old  man. 

"Ay — ay — very  good,"  said  the  little  gentleman, 
"  you  may  ask  that.    How  dare  you,  sir  ? — eh,  sir  ?" 

"Who  the  devil  are  you  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Jingle,  in  so 
fierce  a  tone  that  the  little  gentleman  involuntarily  fell 
back  a  step  or  two. 

"Who  is  he,  you  scoundrel!"  interposed  Wardle. 
"  He's  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  Inn.  Perker, 
I'll  have  this  fellow  prosecuted — indicted — I'll — I'll — I'll 
ruin  him.  And  you,"  continued  Mr.  Wardle,  turning 
abruptly  round  to  his  sister,  "you,  Rachael,  at  a  time 
of  life  when  you  ought  to  know  better,  what  do  you 


134  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

mean  by  running  away  with  a  vagabond,  disgracing 
your  family,  and  making  yourself  miserable  ?  Get  on 
your  bonnet,  and  come  back.  Call  a  hackney-c'oach 
there  directly,  and  bring  this  lady's  bill,  d'ye  hear — d'ye 
hear?" 

'^Cert'nly,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  who  had  answered 
Wardle's  violent  ringing  of  the  bell  with  .a  degree  of  ce- 
lerity which  must  have  appeared  marvellous  to  anybody 
who  didn't  know  that  his  eye  had  been  applied  to  the 
outside  of  the  keyhole  during  the  whole  interview. 

^'Get  on  your  bonnet,"  repeated  Wardle. 

'"  Do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Jingle.  Leave  the 
room,  sir — no  business  here — lady's  free  to  act  as  she 
pleases — more  than  one-and-twenty." 

''More  than  one-and-twenty,"  ejaculated  Wardle,  con- 
temptuously.   "  More  than  one-and-forty  ! " 

"  I  a'nt,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  her  indignation  get- 
ting the  better  of  her  determination  to  faint, 

"  You  are,"  replied  Wardle,  ''you're  fifty  if  you're  an 
hour." 

Here  the  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  be- 
came senseless. 

"A  glass  of  water,"  said  the  humane  Mr.  Pickwick, 
summoning  the  landlady. 

"A  glass  of  water,"  said  the  passionate  Wardle. 
"Bring  a  bucket,  and  throw  it  all  over  her;  it'll  do 
her  good,  and  she  richly  deserves  it." 

"Ugh,  you  brute  !"  ejaculated  the  kind-hearted  land- 
lady. "Poor  dear."  And  with  sundry  ejaculations  of 
"Come  now,  there's  a  dear — drink  a  little  of  this — it'll 
do  you  good — don't  give  way  so — there's  a  love,"  etc., 
etc.,  the  landlady ,  assisted  by  a  chambermaid,  proceeded 
to  vinegar  the  forehead,  beat  the  hands,  titillate  the 
nose,  and  unlace  the  stays  of  the  spinster  aunt,  and  to 
administer  such  other  restoratives  as  are  usually  ap- 
plied by  compassionate  females  to  ladies  who  are  en- 
deavouring to  ferment  themselves  into  hysterics. 

"Coach  is  ready,  sir,"  said  Sam,  appearing  at  the 
door. 

"  Come  along,"  cried  Wardle.  "Pll  carry  her  down- 
;stairs." 

At  this  proposition  the  hysterics  came  on  with  re- 
doubled violence. 

The  landlady  was  about  to  enter  a  very  violent  pro- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


135 


test  against  this  proceeding,  and  had  already  given  vent 
to  an  indignant  inquiry  whether  Mr.  Wardle  considered 
himself  a  lord  of  the  creation,  when  Mr.  Jingle  inter- 
posed— 

''Boots/'  said  he,  ''get  me  an  officer." 
"Stay,  stay/'  said  little  Mr.  Perker.    "Consider,  sir, 
consider." 

"I'll  not  consider/'  replied  Jingle;  "she's  her  own 
mistress — see  who  dares  to  take  her  away — unless  she 
wishes  it." 

"livori't  be  tak-en  away/'  murmured  the  spinster 
aunt.  "I  don^t  ^^ish  it.  (Here  there  was  a  frightful  re- 
lapse. ) 

"My  dear  sir/'  said  the  little  man,  in  a  low  tone, 
taking  Mr.  Wardle  and  Mr.  Pickwick  apart  :  "  My  dear 
sir,  we're  in  a  very  awkward  situation.  It's  a  distressing 
case — very  :  I  never  knew  one  more  so  ;  but  really,  my 
dear  sir,  really  we  have  no  power  to  control  this  lady's 
actions.  I  warned  you  before  we  came,  my  dear  sir, 
that  there  was  nothing  to  look  to  but  a  compromise." 

There  was  a  short  pause. 

"  What  kind  of  a  compromise  would  you  recommend?" 
inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Why,  my  dear  sir,  our  friend's  in  an  unpleasant 
position — very  much  so.  We  must  be  content  to  suffer 
some  pecuniary  loss." 

"Ill  suffer  any,  rather  than  submit  to  this  disgrace, 
and  let  her,  fool  as  she  is,  be  made  miserable  for  life," 
said  Wardle. 

"  I  rather  think  it  can  be  done,"  said  the  bustling  little 
man.  "Mr.  Jingle,  will  you  step  with  us  into  the  next 
room  for  a  moment?" 

Mr.  Jingle  assented,  and  the  quartette  walked  into  an 
empty  apartment. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  as  he  carefully  closed 
the  door,  "is  there  no  way  of  accommodating  this  mat- 
ter— step  this  way,  sir,  for  a  moment — into  this  window, 
sir,  where  we  can  be  alone — there,  sir,  there;  pray  sit 
down,  sir.  Now,  my  dear  sir,  between  you  and  I,  we 
know  very  well,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  have  run  off  with 
this  lady  for  the  sake  of  her  money.  Don't  frown,  sir, 
don't  frown;  I  say,  between  you  and  I,  ive  know  it.  We 
are  both  men  of  the  world,  and  we  know  very  well  that 
our  friends  here  are  not — eh?" 


136  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Mr.  Jingle's  face  gradually  relaxed,  and  something 
distantly  resembling  a  wink  quivered  for  an  instant  in 
his  left  eye. 

Very  good,  very  good,"  said  the  little  man,  observ- 
ing the  impression  he  had  made.  "  Now  the  fact  is,  that 
beyond  a  few  hundreds,  the  lady  has  little  or  nothing 
till  the  death  of  her  mother — fine  old  lady,  my  dear  sir." 

"  Old,''  said  Mr.  Jingle,  briefly  but  emphatically. 
Why,  yes,"  said  the  attorney,  with  a  slight  cough. 
^^You  are  right,  my  dear  sir,  she  is  rather  old.  She 
comes  of  an  old  family  though,  my  dear  sir;  old  in  every 
sense  of  the  word.  The  founder  of  that  family  came 
into  Kent,  when  Julius  Caesar  invaded  Britain — only 
one  member  of  it,  since,  who  hasn't  lived  to  eighty-five, 
and  he  was  beheaded  by  one  of  the  Henrys.  The  old 
lady  is  not  seventy-three  now,  my  dear  sir."  The  little 
man  paused,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

''Well,"  cried  Mr.  Jingle. 

''Well,  my  dear  sir — you  don't  take  snuff? — ah!  so 
much  the  better — expensive  habit — well,  my  dear  sir, 
you're  a  fine  young  man,  man  of  the  world — able  to  push 
your  fortune,  if  you  had  capital,  eh?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Jingle  again. 

"  Do  you  comprehend  me?" 

"Not  quite." 

"Don't  you  think — now,  my  dear  sir,  I  put  it  to  you, 
don't  you  think — that  fifty  pounds  and  liberty  would  be 
better  than  Miss  Wardle  and  expectation?" 

"  Won't  do — not  half  enough! "  said  Mr.  Jingle,  rising, 

"Nay,  nay,  my  dear  sir,"  remonstrated  the  little  at- 
torney, seizing  him  by  the  button.  "Good  round  sum 
— a  man  like  you  could  treble  it  in  no  time — great  deal 
to  be  done  with  fifty  pounds,  my  dear  sir." 

"  More  to  be  done  with  a  hundred  and  fifty,"  replied 
,  Mr.  Jingle,  coolly. 

"V/ell,  my  dear  sir,  we  won't  waste  time  splitting 
straws,"  resumed  the  little  man,  "say — say —  seventy." 

"Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"Don't  go  away,  my  dear  sir— pray  don't  hurry,"  said 
the  little  man.  "  Eighty;  come:  I'll  write  you  a  cheque 
at  once." 

"Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,  well,"  said  the  little  man,  still 
detaining  himj  "just  tell  me  what  will  do." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


137 


"  Expensive  affair,"  said  Mr.  Jingle.  Money  out  of 
pocket — posting,  nine  pounds;  licence,  three — that's 
twelve — compensation,  a  hundred — hundred  and  twelve 
— breach  of  honour — and  loss  of  the  lady — " 

''Yes,  my  dear  sir,  yes,''  said  the  little  man,  with  a 
knowing  look,  ''never  mind  the  last  two  items.  That's 
a  hundred  and  twelve — say  a  hundred — come." 

"And  twenty,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

'•Come,  come,  I'll  write  you  a  cheque,"  said  the  little 
man;*  and  down  he  sat  at  the  table  for  that  purpose. 

"I'll  make  it  payable  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  said 
the  little  man,  with  a  look  towards  Mr.  Wardle;  '*and 
we  can  get  the  lady  away,  meanwhile."  Mr.  Wardle 
sullenly  nodded  assent. 

"A  hundred,"  said  the  little  man. 

"And  twenty,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"My  dear  sir,"  remonstrated  the  little  man. 

"Give  it  him,"  interposed  Mr.  Wardle,  "and  let  him  go." 

The  cheque  was  written  by  the  little  gentleman,  and 
pocketed  by  Jingle. 

"Now,  leave  this  house  instantly!"  said  Wardle, 
starting  up. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  urged  the  little  man. 

"And  mind,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  "that  nothing  should 
have  induced  me  to  make  this  compromise — not  even  a 
regard  for  my  family — if  I  had  not  known  that  the  mo- 
ment you  got  any  money  in  that  pocket  of  yours,  you'd 
go  to  the  devil  faster,  if  possible,  than  vou  would  with- 
out it—" 

"My  dear  sir,"  urged  the  little  man  again. 
"Be  quiet,  Perker,"  resumed  Wardle.    "Leave  the 
room,  sir." 

"Off  directly,"  said  the  unabashed  Jingle.  ''Bye, 
bye,  Pickwick." 

If  any  dispassionate  spectator  could  have  beheld  the 
countenance  of  the  illustrious  man,  whose  name  forms 
the  leading  feature  of  the  title  of  this  work,  during  the 
latter  part  of  this  conversation,  he  would  have  been 
almost  induced  to  wonder  that  the  indignant  lira  which 
flashed  from  his  eyes  did  not  melt  the  glasses  of  his 
spectacles — so  majestic  was  his  wrath.  His  nostrils  di- 
lated, and  his  fists  clenched  involuntarily,  as  he  heard 
himself  addressed  bv  the  villain.  But  he  restrained 
himself  again — he  did  not  jjulverise  him. 


138  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

^' Here,"  continued  the  hardened  traitor,  tossing  the 
licence  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  feet;  '^get  the  name  altered— 
take  home  the  lady — do  for  Tuppy.'' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  a  philosopher,  but  philosophers  are 
only  men  in  armour,  after  all.  The  shaft  had  reached 
him,  penetrated  through  his  philosophical  harness  to  his 
very  heart.  In  the  frenzy  of  his  rage,  he  hurled  the  ink- 
stand madly  forward,  and  followed  it  up  himself.  But 
Mr.  Jingle  had  disappeared,  and  he  found  himself  caught 
in  the  arms  of  Sam. 

"  Hallo,"  said  that  eccentric  functionary,  ^^furniter's 
cheap  were  you  come  from,  sir.  Self-acting  ink,  that 
'ere;  it's  wrote  your  mark  upon  the  wall,  old  gen'lm'n. 
Hold  still,  sir,  wot's  the  use  o'  runnin'  arter  a  man  as  has 
made  his  lucky,  and  got  to  t'other  end  of  the  Borough 
by  this  time." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mind,  like  those  of  all  truly  great  men, 
was  open  to  conviction.  He  was  a  quick  and  powerful 
reasoner;  and  a  moment's  reflection  sufficed  to  remind 
him  of  the  impotency  of  his  rage.  It  subsided  as  quickly 
as  it  had  bBen  roused.  He  panted  for  breath,  and  looked 
benignantly  round  upon  his  friends. 

Shall  we  tell  the  lamentations  that  ensued,  when  Miss 
Wardle  found  herself  deserted  by  the  faithless  Jingle? 
Shall  we  extract  Mr.  Pickwick's  masterly  description  of 
that  heart-rending  scene?  His  note-book,  blotted  with 
the  tears  of  sympathising  humanity,  lies  open  before  us; 
one  word,  and  it  is  in  the  printer's  hands.  But,  no!  we 
will  be  resolute!  We  will  not  wring  the  public  bosom 
with  the  delineation  of  such  suffering! 

Slowly  and  sadly  did  the  two  friends  and  the  deserted 
lady  return  next  day  in  the  Muggleton  heavy  coach. 
Dimly  and  darkly  had  the  sombre  shadows  of  a  sum- 
mer's night  fallen  upon  all  around,  when  they  again 
reached  Dingley  Dell^  and  stood  within  the  entrance  to 
Manor  Farm, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


139 


CHAPTER  XI. 

INVOLVING  ANOTHER  JOURNEY,  AND  AN  ANTIQUARIAN  DIS- 
COVERY. RECORDING  MR.  PICKWICK'S  DETERMINATION 
TO  BE  PRESENT  AT  AN  ELECTION;  AND  CONTAINING  A 
MANUSCRIPT  OF  THE  OLD  CLERGYMAN'S. 

A  NIGHT  of  quiet  and  repose  in  the  profound  silence 
of  Dingley  Dell,  and  an  hour's  breathing  of  its  fresh  and 
fragrant  air  on  the  ensuing  morning,  completely  recov- 
ered Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  effects  of  his  late  fatigue  of 
body  and  anxiety  of  mind.  That  illustrious  man  had 
been  separated  from  his  friends  and  followers  for  two 
whole  days;  and  it  was  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  and 
delight,  which  no  common  imagination  can  adequately 
conceive,  that  he  stepped  forward  to  greet  Mr.  Winkle 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  he  encountered  those  gentlemen 
on  his  return  from  his  early  walk.  The  pleasure  was 
mutual ;  for  who  could  ever  gaze  on  Mr.  Pickwick's 
beaming  face  without  experiencing  the  sensation  ?  But 
still  a  cloud  seemed  to  hang  over  his  companions  which 
that  great  man  could  not  but  be  sensible  of,  and  was 
wholly  at  a  loss  to  account  for.  There  was  a  mysterious 
air  about  them  both,  as  unusual  as  it  was  alarming. 

''And  how,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he  had  grasped 
his  fellows  by  the  hand,  and  exchanged  warm  saluta- 
tions of  welcome;  "  how  is  Tupman  ?  " 

Mr.  Winkle,  to  whom  the  question  was  more  peculiarly 
addressed,  made  no  reply.  He  turned  away  his  head, 
and  appeared  absorbed  in  melancholy  reflection. 

''Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly,  "how 
is  our  friend — he  is  not  ill  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass;  and  a  tear  trembled  on 
his  sentimental  eye-lid,  like  a  raindrop  on  a  window- 
frame.    "No;  he  is  not  ill." 

Mr.  Pickwick  stopped,  and  gazed  on  each  of  his  friends 
in  turn. 

"Winkle — Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick:  "what 
does  this  mean  ?  Where  is  our  friend  ?  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  Speak — I  conjure,  I  entreat — nay,  I  command 
you,  speak." 


140  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


There  was  a  solemnity — a  dignity — in  Mr.  Pickwick's 
manner,  not  to  be  withstood. 

''He  is  gone/'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Gone  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''^Gone  !" 

"  Gone,"  repeated  Mr.  Snodgrass. 
Where  ?"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 
We  can  only  guess  from  that  communication,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Snodgrass,  taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  and 
placing  it  in  his  friend's  hand.  "  Yesterday  morning, 
when  a  letter  was  received  from  Mr.  Wardle,  stating 
that  you  would  be  home  with  his  sister  at  night,  the  mel- 
ancholy which  had  hung  over  our  friend  during  the 
whole  of  the  previous  day  was  observed  to  increase. 
He  shortly  afterwards  disappeared :  he  was  missing 
during  the  whole  day,  and  in  the  evening  this  letter  was 
brought  by  the  hostler  from  the  Crown,  at  Muggleton. 
It  had  been  left  in  his  charge  in  the  morning,  with  a 
strict  injunction  that  it  should  not  be  delivered  until 
night." 

Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  epistle.  It  was  in  his  friend's 
hand-writing,  and  these  were  its  contents: 

''My  Dear  Pickwick: 

"You,  my  dear  friend,  are  placed  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  many  mortal  frailties  and  weaknesses  which 
ordinary  people  cannot  overcome.  You  do  not  know 
what  it  is,  at  one  blow,  to  be  deserted  by  a  lovely  and 
fascinating  creature,  and  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  artifices 
of  a  villain,  who  hid  the  grin  of  cunning  beneath  the 
mask  of  friendship.    I  hope  you  never  may. 

"Any  letter,  addressed  to  me  at  the  Leather  Bottle, 
Cobham,  Kent,  will  be  forwarded — supposing  I  still 
exist.  I  hasten  from  the  sight  of  that  world,  which  has 
become  odious  to  me.  Should  I  hasten  from  it  altogether, 
pity — forgive  me.  Life,  my  dear  Pickwick,  has  become 
insupportable  to  me.  The  spirit  which  burns  within  us, 
is  a  porter's  knot,  on  which  to  rest  the  heavy  load  of 
worldly  cares  and  troubles;  and  when  that  spirit  fails 
us,  the  burden  is  too  heavy  to  be  borne.  We  sink  be- 
neath it.    You  may  tell  Rachael — ah,  that  name! 

"Tracy  TuPMAN." 

"We  must  leave  this  place  directly,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, as  he  refolded  the  note.   "It  would  not  have  been 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


141 


decent  for  us  to  remain  here,  under  any  circumstances, 
after  what  has  happened ;  and  now  we  are  bound  to 
follow  in  search  of  our  friend."  And  so  saying,  he  led 
the  way  to  the  house. 

His  jntention  was  rapidly  communicated.  The  en- 
treaties to  remain  were  pressing,  but  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  inflexible.  Business,  he  said,  required  his  immedi- 
ate attendance. 

The  old  clergyman  was  present. 

"  You  are  not  really  going  ?"  said  he,  taking  Mr.  Pick- 
wick aside. 

Mr.  Pickwick  reiterated  his  former  determination. 

''Then  here,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  ''is  a  little 
manuscript,  which  I  had  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
reading  to  you  myself.  I  found  it  on  the  death  of  a 
friend  of  mine — a  medical  man,  engaged  in  our  County 
Lunatic  Asylum — among  a  variety  of  papers,  which  I 
had  the  option  of  destroying  or  preserving,  as  I  thought 
proper.  I  can  hardly  believe  that  the  manuscript  is 
genuine,  though  it  certainly  is  not  in  my  friend's  hand. 
Hov/ever,  whether  it  be  the  genuine  production  of  a 
maniac,  or  founded  upon  the  ravings  of  some  unhappy 
being,  which  I  think  more  probable,  read  it,  and  judge 
for  yourself." 

Mr.  Pickwick  received  the  manuscript,  and  parted 
from  the  benevolent  old  gentleman  with  many  expres- 
sions of  good- will  and  esteem. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  task  to  take  leave  of  the  inmates 
of  Manor  Farm,  from  whom  they  had  received  so  much 
hospitality  and  kindness.  Mr.  Pickwick  kissed  the 
young  ladies — we  were  going  to  say,  as  if  they  were  his 
own  daughters,  only  as  he  might  possibly  have  infused 
a  little  more  warmth  into  the  salutation,  the  comparison 
would  not  be  quite  appropriate — hugged  the  old  lady 
with  filial  cordiality  ;  and  patted  the  rosy  cheeks  of  the 
female  servants  in  a  most  patriarchal  manner,  as  he 
slipped  into  the  hands  of  each  some  more  substantial 
expressions  of  his  approval.  The  exchange  of  CQrdiali- 
ties  with  their  fine  old  host  and  Mr.  Trundle  was  even 
more  hearty  and  prolonged ;  and  it  was  not  until  Mr. 
Snodgrass  had  been  several  times  called  for,  and  at  last 
emerged  from  a  dark  passage,  followed  soon  after  by 
Emily  (whose  bright  eyes  looked  unusually  dim)  that 
the  three  friends  were  enabled  to  tear  themselves 


142  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


from  their  friendly  entertainers.  Many  a  backward 
look  they  gave  at  the  Farm,  as  they  walked  slowly 
away;  and  many  a  kiss  did  Mr.  Snodgrass  waft  in  the 
air,  in  acknowledgement  of  something  very  like  a  lady's 
handkerchief,  which  was  waved  from  one  of  the  upper 
windows,  until  a  turn  of  the  lane  hid  the  old  house  from 
bheir  sight. 

!  At  Muggleton  they  procured  a  conveyance  to  Roches- 
ter. By  the  time  they  reached  the  last-named  place, 
the  violence  of  their  grief  had  sufficiently  abated  to  -ad- 
mit of  their  making  a  very  excellent  early  dinner  ;  and 
having  procured  the  necessary  information  relative  to 
the  road,  the  three  friends  set  forward  again  in  the  after- 
noon to  walk  to  Cobham. 

A  delightful  walk  it  was;  for  it  was  a  pleasant  after- 
noon in  June,  and  their  way  lay  through  a  deep  and 
shady  wood,  cooled  by  the  light  wind  which  gently  rus- 
tled the  thick  foliage,  and  enlivened  by  the  songs  of  the 
birds  that  perched  upon  the  boughs.  The  ivy  and  the 
moss  crept  in  thick  clusters  over  the  old  trees,  and  the 
soft  green  turf  overspread  the  ground  like  a  silken  mat. 
They  emerged  upon  an  open  park,  with  an  ancient  hall, 
displaying  the  quaint  and  picturesque  architecture  of 
Elizabeth's  time.  Long  vistas  of  stately  oaks  and  elm 
trees  appeared  on  every  side  ;  large  herds  of  deer  were 
cropping  the  fresh  grass ;  and  occasionally  a  startled  hare 
scoured  along  the  ground,  with  the  speed  of  the  shadows 
thrown  by  the  light  clouds  which  sweep  across  a  sunny 
landscape  like  a  passing  breath  of  summer. 

If  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about  him  ;  if 
this  were  the  place  to  which  all  who  are  troubled  with 
)ur  friend's  complaint  came,  I  fancy  their  old  attach- 
ment to  this  world  would  very  soon  return." 

"  I  think  so  too/'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

''And  really,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  half  an 
hour's  walking  had  brought  them  to  the  village,  "  really 
for  a  misanthrope's  choice,  this  is  one  of  the  pret- 
tiest and  most  desirable  places  of  residence  I  ever  met 
with."  • 

In  this  opinion  also,  both  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass expressed  their  concurrence  ;  and  having  been  di- 
rected to  the  Leather  Bottle,  a  clean  and  commodious 
village  ale-house,  the  three  travellers  entered,  and  at 
once  inquired  for  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Tupman. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


143 


"Show  the  gentlemen  into  the  parlour,  Tom/'  said 
the  landlady. 

A  stout  country  lad  opened  a  door  at  the  end  of  the 
passage,  and  the  three  friends  entered  a  long,  low- 
roofed  room,  furnished  with  a  large  number  of  high- 
backed  leather-cushioned  chairs,  of  fantastic  shapes, 
and  embellished  with  a  great  variety  of  old  portraits  and 
roughly-coloured  prints  of  some  antiquity.  At  the  upper 
end  of  the  room  was  a  table,  with  a  white  cloth  upon  it; 
well  covered  with  roast  fowl,  bacon,  ale,  and  et  ceteras, 
and  at  the  table  sat  Mr.  Tupman,  looking  as  unlike  a 
man  who  had  taken  his  leave  of  the  world  as  possible. 

On  the  entrance  of  his  friends,  that  gentleman  laid 
down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  with  a  mournful  air  ad- 
vanced to  meet  them. 

''I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  here,"  he  said,  as  he 
grasped  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand.    "It's  very  kind." 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sitting  down,  and  wiping 
from  his  forehead  the  perspiration  which  the  walk  en- 

f endered.  "  Finish  your  dinner,  and  walk  out  with  me. 
wish  to  speak  to  you  alone." 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  desired;  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
having  refreshed  himself  with  a  copious  draught  of  ale, 
waited  his  friend's  leisure.  The  dinner  was  quickly 
despatched,  and  they  waiked  out  together. 

For  half  an  hour,  their  forms  might  have  been  seen 
pacing  the  churchyard  to  and  fro,  while  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  engaged  in  combating  his  companion's  resolution. 
Any  repetition  of  his  arguments  vv^ould  be  useless;  for 
vv^hat  language  could  convey  to  them  that  energy  and 
force  which  their  great  originator's  manner  communi- 
cated ?  Whether  Mr.  Tupman  was  already  tired  of 
retirement,  or  whether  he  was  wholly  unable  to  resist 
the  eloquent  appeal  which  was  made  to  him,  matters 
npt,  he  did  not  resist  it  at  last. 

"  It  mattered  little  to  him,"  he  said,  "where  he  dragged 
out  the  miserable  remainder  of  his  days;  and  since  his 
friend  laid  so  much  stress  upon  his  humble  companion- 
ship, he  was  willing  to  share  his  adventures." 

Mr.  Pickwick  smiled;  tliey  shook  hands;  and  walked 
back  to  rejoin  their  companions. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Mr.  Pickwick  made  that 
immortal  discovery  which  has  been  the  pride  and  boast 
of  his  friends,  and  the  envy  of  every  antiquarian  in  this 


144 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


or  any  other  country.  They  had  passed  the  door  of 
their  inn,  and  walked  a  little  way  down  the  village, 
before  they  recollected  the  precise  spot  in  which  it  stood. 
As  they  turned  back,  Mr.  Pickwick's  eye  fell  upon  a 
small  broken  stone,  partially  buried  in  the  ground,  in 
front  of  a  cottage  door.    He  paused. 

*'This  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^'What  is  strange?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  staring 
eagerly  at  every  object  near  him  but  the  right  one. 
''God  bless  me,  what's  the  matter?" 

This  last  was  an  ejaculation  of  irrepressible  astonish- 
ment, occasioned  by  seeing  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  enthu- 
siasm for  discovery,  fall  on  his  knees  before  the  little 
stone,  and  commence  wiping  the  dust  off  it  with  his 
pocket-handkerchief. 

''There  is  an  inscription  here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Is  it  possible?"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"I  can  discern,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing 
away  with  all  his  might,  and  gazing  intently  through 
his  spectacles;  "I  can  discern  a  cross,  and  a  B,  and 
then  a  T.  This  is  important,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick, 
starting  up.  "This  is  some  very  old  inscription,  exist- 
ing perhaps  long  before  the  ancient  alms-houses  in  this 
place.    It  must  not  be  lost." 

He  tapped  at  the  cottage  door.  A  labouring  man 
opened  it. 

"Do  you  know  how  this  stone  came  here,  my  friend?" 
inquired  the  benevolent  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"No,  I  doan't,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  civilly.  "  It  was 
here  long  afore  I  war  born,  or  any  on  us." 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  triumphantly  at  his  companion. 

"You — you — are  not  particularly  attached  to  it,  I  dare 
say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  trembling  with  anxiety.  "You 
wouldn't  mind  selling  it,  now?" 

"Ah!  but  who'd  buy  it?"  inquired  the  man,  with  an 
expression  of  face  which  he  probably  meant  to  be  very 
cunning. 

"  I'll  give  you  ten  shillings  for  it,  at  once,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  "if  you  would  take  it  up  for  me." 

The  astonishment  of  the  village  may  be  easily  im- 
agined, when  (the  little  stone  having  been  raised  with 
one  wrench  of  a  spade)  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  dint  of  great  per- 
sonal exertion,  bore  it  with  his  own  hands  to  the  inn, and 
after  having  carefully  washed  it,  deposited  it  on  the  table. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


145 


The  exultation  and  joy  of  the  Pickwickians  knew  no 
bounds  when  their  patience  and  assiduity,  their  washing 
and  scraping,  were  crowned  with  success.  The  stone 
was  uneven  and  broken,  and  the  letters  were  straggling 
and  irregular,  but  the  following  fragment  of  an  inscrip- 
tion was  clearly  to  be  deciphered: 

+ 

B   I   L   S  T 
U  M 
P   S   H  I 

S.  M. 
ARK 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  as  he  sat 
and  gloated  over  the  treasure  he  had  discovered.  He  had 
attained  one  of  the  greatest  objects  of  his  ambition.  In 
a  county  known  to  abound  in  remains  of  the  early  ages; 
in  a  village  in  which  there  still  existed  some  memorials 
of  the  olden  time,  he — he,  the  Chairman  of  the  Pickwick 
Club — had  discovered  a  strange  and  curious  inscription 
of  unquestionable  antiquity,  which  had  wholly  escaped 
the  observation  of  the  many  learned  men  who  had  pre- 
ceded him'.  He  could  hardly  trust  the  evidence  of  his 
senses. 

"  This — this/'  said  he,  ^'  determines  me.  We  return  to 
town  to-morrow." 

^'To-morrow!"  exclaimed  his  admiring  followers. 

''To-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''This  treasure 
must  be  at  once  deposited  where  it  can  be  thoroughly 
investigated,  and  properly  understood.  I  have  another 
reason  for  this  step.  In  a  few  days,  an  election  is  to 
take  place  for  the  borough  of  Eatanswill,  at  vv^hich  Mr. 
Perker,  a  gentleman  whom  I  lately  met,  is  the  agent  of 
one  of  the  candidates.  We  will  behold,  and  minutely 
examine,  a  scene  so  interesting  to  every  Englishman." 

"  We  will,"  was  the  animated  cry  of  three  voices. 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  around  him.  The  attachment 
and  fervour  of  his  followers  lighted  up  a  glow  of  enthu- 
siasm within  him.    He  was  their  leader,  and  he  felt  it. 

"  Let  us  celebrate  this  happy  meeting  with  a  convivial 
glass,"  said  he.  This  proposition,  like  the  other,  was 
received  with  unanimous  applause.  And  having  him- 
self deposited  the  important  stone  in  a  small  deal  box, 


146  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

purchased  from  the  landlady  for  the  purpose,  he  placed 
himself  in  an  arm-chair  at  the  head  of  the  table;  and 
the  evening  was  devoted  to  festivity  and  conversation. 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock — a  late  hour  for  the  little 
village  of  Cobham — when  Mr.  Pickwick  retired  to  the 
bed-room  which  had  been  prepared  for  his  reception* 
He  threw  open  the  lattice  wmdow,  and  setting  his  light 
upon  the  table,  fell  into  a  train  of  meditation  on  the 
hurried  events  of  the  two  preceding  days. 

The  hour  and  the  place  were  both  favourable  to  contem- 
plation; Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused  by  the  church  clock 
striking  twelve.  The  first  stroke  of  the  hour  sounded 
solemnly  in  his  ear:  but  when  the  bell  ceased,  the  still- 
ness seemed  insupportable — he  almost  felt  as  if  he  had 
lost  a  companion.  He  was  nervous  and  excited;  and 
hastily  undressing  himself,  and  placing  his  light  in  the 
chimney,  got  into  bed. 

Every  one  has  experienced  that  disagreeable  state  of 
mind,  in  which  a  sensation  of  bodily  weariness  in  vain 
contends  against  an  inability  to  sleep.  It  was  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's condition  at  this  moment;  he  tossed  first  on  one 
side  and  then  on  the  other;  and  perseveringly  closed  his 
eyes  as  if  to  coax  himself  to  slumber.  It  was  of  no  use. 
Y/hether  it  was  the  unwonted  exertion  he  had  undergone, 
or  the  heat,  or  the  brandy  and  water,  or  the  strange  bed 
— whatever  it  was,  his  thoughts  kept  reverting  very  un- 
comfortably to  the  grim  pictures  down  stairs,  and  the 
old  stories  to  which  they  had  given  rise  in  the  course  of 
the  evening.  After  half  an  hour's  tumbling  about,  he 
came  to  the  unsatisfactory  conclusion  that  it  was  of  no 
use  trying  to  sleep;  so  he  got  up  and  partially  dressed 
himself.  Anything,  he  thought,  was  better  than  lying 
there  fancying  all  kinds  of  horrors.  He  looked  out  of 
the  window — it  was  very  dark.  He  walked  about  the 
room — it  was  very  lonely. 

He  had  taken  a  few  turns  from  the  door  to  the  window, 
and  from  the  window  to  the  door,  when  the  clergyman's 
manuscript  for  the  first  time  entered  his  head.  It  was 
a  good  thought.  If  it  failed  to  interest  him,  it  might 
send  him  to  sleep.  He  took  it  from  his  coat-pocket,  and 
drawing  a  small  table  towards  his  bed-side,  trimmed  the 
light,  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  composed  himself  to 
read.  It  was  a  strange  handwriting,  and  the  paper  was 
much  soiled  and  blotted.    The  title  gave  him  a  sudden 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


147 


start,  too;  and  he  could  not  avoid  casting  a  wistful 
glance  round  the  room.    Reflecting  on  the  absurdity  of 
giving  way  to  such  feelings,  however,  he  trimmed  the 
•  light  again,  and  read  as  follows: 

A  madman's  manuscript. 

^^Yes  —  a  madman's!  How  that  word  would  have 
struck  to  my  heart  many  years  ago  !  How  it  would 
have  roused  the  terror  that  used  to  come  upon  me  some- 
times ;  sending  the  blood  hissing  and  tingling  through 
my  veins,  till  the  cold  dew  of  fear  stood  in  large  drops 
upon  my  skin,  and  my  knees  knocked  together  with 
fright !  I  like  it  now,  though.  It's  a  fine  name.  Show 
me  the  monarch  whose  angry  frown  was  ever  feared 
like  the  glare  of  a  madman's  eye — whose  cord  and  axe 
were  ever  half  so  sure  as  a  madman's  grip.  Ho  !  ho  ! 
It's  a  grand  thing  to  be  mad  !  to  be  peeped  at  like  a  wild 
lian  through  the  iron  bars — to  gnash  one's  teeth  and  howl, 
through  the  long  still  night,  to  the  merry  ring  of  a  heavy 
chain — and  to  roll  and  twine  among  the  straw,  trans- 
ported with  such  brave  music.  Hurrah  for  the  mad- 
house !    Oh,  it's  a  rare  place  ! 

I  remember  days  when  I  was  afraid  of  being  mad  : 
when  I  used  to  start  from  my  sleep,  and  fall  upon  my 
knees,  and  pray  to  be  spared  from  the  curse  of  my  race; 
when  I  rushed  from  the  sight  of  merriment  or  hap- 
piness, to  hide  myself  in  some  lonely  place,  and  spend 
the  weary  hours  in  watching  the  progress  of  the  fever 
that  was  to  consume  my  brain,  t  knev/  that  madness 
was  mixed  up  with  my  blood  and  the  marrow  of  my 
bones ;  that  *  one  generation  had  passed  away  without 
the  pestilence  appjearing  among  them,  and  that  I  was 
the  first  in  whom  it  would  revive.  I  knew  it  must  be  so: 
and  so  it  always  had  been,  and  so  it  ever  would  be  :  and 
when  I  cowered  in  some  obscure  corner  of  a  crowded 
room,  and  saw  men  whisper,  and  point,  and  turn  their 
eyes  towards  me,  I  knew  they  were  telling  each  other 
of  the  doomed  madman;  and  I  slunk  away  again  to 
mope  in  solitude. 

''I  did  this  for  years;  long,  long  years  they  were. 
The  nights  here  are  long  sometimes — very  long;  but 
they  are  nothing  to  the  restless  nights,  and  dreadful 
dreams,  I  had  at  that  time.    It  makes  me  cold  to  re- 


148  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


member  them,  Large,  dusky  forms,  with  sly  and  jeer- 
ing faces,  crouched  in  the  corners  of  the  room,  and  bent 
over  my  bed  at  night,  tempting  me  to  madness.  They 
told  me  in  low  whispers  that  the  floor  of  the  old  house  * 
in  which  my  father's  father  died  was  stained  with  his 
own  blood,  shed  by  his  own  hand  in  raging  madness.  I 
drove  my  fingers  into  my  ears,  but  they  screamed  into 
my  head  till  the  room  rang  with  it,  that  in  one  genera- 
tion before  him  the  madness  slumbered,  but  that  his 
grandfather  had  lived  for  years  with  his  hands  fettered 
to  the  ground,  to  prevent  his  tearing  himself  to  pieces. 
I  knew  they  told  the  truth — I  knew  it  well.  I  had 
found  it  out  years  before,  though  they  had  tried  to  keep 
it  from  me  !  Ha  !  ha  !  I  was  too  cunning  for  them,  mad- 
man as  they  thought  me. 

^'At  last  it  came  upon  me,  and  I  wondered  howl 
could  ever  have  feared  it.  I  could  go  into  the  world 
now,  and  laugh  and  shout  with  the  best  among  them. 
I  knew  I  was  mad,  but  they  did  not  even  suspect  it. 
How  I  used  to  hug  myself  with  delight,  when  I  thought 
of  the  fine  trick  I  was  playing  them,  after  their  old 
pointing  and  leering,  when  I  was  not  mad,  but  only 
dreading  that  I  might  one  day  become  so  !  And  how  I 
used  to  laugh  for  joy,  when  I  was  alone,  and  thought 
how  well  I  kept  my  secret;  and  how  quickly  my  kind 
friends  would  have  fallen  from  me,  if  they  had  known 
the  truth.  I  could  have  screamed  with  ecstacy  when  I 
dined  alone  with  some  fine  roaring  fellow,  to  think  how 
pale  he  would  have  turned,  and  how  fast  he  would  have 
run,  if  he  had  known  that  the  dear  friend  who  sat  close 
to  him,  sharpening  a  bright,  glittering  knife,  was  a  mad- 
man, with  all  the  power,  and  half  the  will,  to  plunge  it 
in  his  heart.    Oh,  it  was  a  merry  life! 

"  Riches  became  mine,  wealth  poured  in  upon  me,  and 
I  rioted  in  pleasure  enhanced  a  thousand  fold  to  me  by 
the  consciousness  of  my  well-kept  secret.  I  inherited 
an  estate.  The  law — the  eagle-eyed  law  itself  had  been 
deceived,  and  had  handed  over  disputed  thousands  to  a 
madman's  hands.  Where  was  the  wit  of  the  sharp-sighted 
men  of  sound  mind  ?  Where  the  dexterity  of  the 
lawyers,  eager  to  discover  a  flaw  ?  The  madman's  cun- 
ning had  over-reached  them  all. 

"  I  had  money.  How  I  was  courted  !  I  spent  it  pro- 
fusely.   How  I  was  praised  !    How  those  three  proud, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


149 


overbearing  brothers  humbled  themselves  before  me  I 
The  old  white-headed  father,  too — such  deference — such 
respect — such  devoted  friendship — why,  he  worshipped 
me.  The  old  man  had  a  daughter,  and  the  young  man 
a  sister;  and  all  the  five  were  poor.  I  was  rich ;  and 
when  I  married  the  girl,  I  saw  a  smile  of  triumph  play 
upon  the  faces  of  her  needy  relatives,  as  they  thought 
of  their  well-planned  scheme,  and  their  fine  prize.  It 
was  for  me  to  smile.  To  smile  !  To  laugh  outright, 
and  tear  my  hair,  and  roll  upon  the  grovmd  with  shrieks 
of  merriment.  They  little  thought  they  had  married 
her  to  a  madman. 

''Stay.  If  they  had  known  it,  would  they  have  saved 
•her?  A  sister's  happiness  against  her  husband's  gold. 
The  lightest  feather  I  blow  into  the  air,  against  the  gay 
chain  that  ornaments  my  body ! 

''In  one  thing  I  was  deceived  with  all  my  cunning. 
If  I  had  not  been  mad — for  though  we  madmen  are 
sharp-witted  enough,  we  get  bewildered  sometimes — I 
should  have  kno  wn  that  the  girl  would  rather  have  been 
placed,  stiff  and  cold  in  a  dull  leaden  coffin,  than  borne 
an  envied  bride  to  my  rich,  glittering  house.  I  should 
have  known  that  her  heart  was  with  the  dark-eyed  boy 
whose  name  I  once  heard  her  breathe  in  her  troubled 
sleep;  and  that  she  had  been  sacrificed  to  me,  to  relieve 
the  poverty  of  the  old  white-headed  man,  and  the 
haughty  brothers. 

"I  don't  remember  forms  or  faces  now,  but  I  know 
the  girl  was  beautiful.  I  know  she  was;  for  the  bright 
moonlight  nights,  when  I  start  up  from  my  sleep,  and 
all  is  quiet  about  me,  I  see,  standing  still  and  motionless 
in  one  corner  of  this  cell,  a  slight  and  wasted  figure  with 
long  black  hair,  which,  streaming  down  her  back,  stirs 
with  no  earthly  wind,  and  eyes  that  fix  their  gaze  on 
me,  and  never  wink  or  close.  Hush  !  the  blood  chills  at 
my  heart  as  I  write  it  down — that  form  is  lier's;  the  face 
is  very  pale,  and  the  eyes  are  glassy  bright;  but  I  know 
them  well.  That  figure  never  moves;  it  never  frowns 
and  mouths  as  others  do,  that  fill  this  place  sometimes; 
but  it  is  much  more  dreadful  to  me,  even  than  the  spirits 
that  tempted  me  many  years  ago — it  comes  fresh  from 
the  grave;  and  is  so  very  death- like. 

"For  nearly  a  year  I  saw  that  face  grow  paler;  for 
nearly  a  year,  I  saw  the  tears  steal  down  the  mournful 


150 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


cheeks,  and  never  knew  the  cause.  I  found  it  out  at 
last,  though.     They  could  not  keep  it  from  me  long. 


she  despised  my  wealth,  and  hated  the  splendour  in 
which  she  lived — I  had  not  expected  that.  She  loved 
another.  This  I  had  never  thought  of.  Strange  feelings 
came  over  me,  and  thoughts  forced  upon  me  by  some 
secret  power  whirled  round  and  round  my  brain.  I  did 
not  hate  her,  though  I  hated  the  boy  she  still  wept  for. 
I  pitied — yes,  I  pitied — the  wretched  life  to  which  her 
cold  and  selfish  relations  had  doomed  her.  I  knew  that 
she  could  not  live  long,  but  the  thought  that  before  her 
death  she  might  give  birth  to  some  ill-fated  being,  des- 
tined to  hand  down  madness  to  its  offspring,  determined  • 
me.    I  resolved  to  kill  her. 

"  For  many  weeks  I  thought  of  poison,  and  then  of 
drowning,  then  of  fire.  A  fine  sight  the  grand  house  in 
ilanies,  and  the  madman's  wife  smouldering  away  to 
cinders.  Think  of  the  jest  of  a  large  reward,  too,  and 
of  some  sane  man  swinging  in  the  wind  for  a  deed  he 
never  did,  and  all  through  a  madman's  cunning!  I 
thought  often  of  this,  but  I  gave  it  up  at  last.  Oh!  the 
pleasure  of  stropping  the  razor  day  after  day,  feeling 
the  sharp  edge,  and  thinking  of  the  gash  one  stroke  of 
its  thin,  bright  edge  would  make  ! 

"  At  last  the  old  spirits  who  had  been  with  me  so  often 
before  whispered  in  my  ear  that  the  time  was  come, 
and  thrust  the  open  razor  into  my  hand.  I  grasped  it 
firmly,  rose  softly  from  the  bed,  and  leaned  over  my 
sleeping  wife.  Her  face  was  buried  in  her  hands.  I 
withdrew  then  softly,  and  they  fell  listlessly  on  her 
bosom.  She  had  been  weeping;  for  the  traces  of  the  tears 
were  still  wet  upon  her  cheek.  Her  face  was  calm  and 
placid;  and,  even  as  I  looked  upon  it,  a  tranquil  srnile 
lighted  up  her  features.  I  laid  my  hand  softly  on  her 
shoulder.  She  started — it  was  only  a  passing  dream.  I 
leant  forward  again.    She  screamed,  and  woke. 

"  One  motion  of  my  hand,  and  she  would  never  again 
have  uttered  cry  or  sound.  But  I  was  startled,  and  drew 
back.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  mine.  I  know  not  how 
it  was,  but  they  cowed  and  frightened  me;  and  I  quailed 
beneath  them.  She  rose  from  the  bed,  still  gazing  fixedly 
and  steadily  on  me.  I  trembled;  the  razor  was  in  my 
hand,  but  I  could  not  move.    She  made  towards  the 


never  thought  she  di< 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


151 


door.  As  she  neared  it,  she  turned,  and  withdrew  her 
eyes  from  my  face.  The  spell  was  broken.  I  bounded 
forward,  and  clutched  her  by  the  arm.  Uttering  shriek 
upon  shriek,  she  sunk  upon  the  ground. 

"  Now,  I  could  have  killed  her  without  a  struggle;  but 
the  house  was  alarmed.  I  heard  the  tread  of  footsteps 
on  the  stairs.  I  replaced  the  razor  in  its  usual  drawer, 
unfastened  the  door,  and  called  loudly  for  assistance. 

''They  came,  and  raised  her,  and  placed  heron  the 
bed.  She  lay  bereft  of  animation  for  hours;  and  when 
life,  look,  and  speech  returned,  her  senses  had  deserted 
her,  and  she  raved  wildlj^  and  furiously. 

"  Doctors  were  called  m — great  men  who  rolled  up  to 
my  door  in  easy  carriages,  with  fine  horses  and  gaudy 
servants.  They  were  at  her  bedside  for  weeks.  They 
had  a  great  meeting,  and  consulted  together  in  low  and 
solemn  voices  in  another  room.  One,  the  cleverest  and 
most  celebrated  among  them,  took  me  aside,  and  bid- 
ding me  prepare  for  the  worst,  told  me — me,  the  mad- 
man— that  my  wife  was  mad.  He  stood  close  beside 
me  at  an  open  window,  his  eyes  looking  in  my  face,  and 
his  hand  laid  upon  my  arm. .  With  one  effort  I  could 
have  hurled  him  to  the  street  beneath.  It  would  have 
been  rare  sport  to  have  done  it;  but  my  secret  was  at 
stake  and  I  let  him  go.  A  few  days  after  they  told  me 
I  must  place  her  under  some  restraint:  I  must  provide  a 
keeper  for  her.  I!  I  went  into  the  open  fields  where 
none  could  hear  me,  and  laughed  till  the  air  resounded 
with  my  shouts! 

'•She  died  next  day.  The  white-headed  old  man  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  grave,  and  the  proud  brothers  dropped 
a  tear  over  the  insensible  corpse  of  her  whose  sufferings 
they  had  regarded  in  her  lifetime  with  muscles  of  iron. 
Air  this  was  food  for  my  secret  mirth,  and  I  laughed 
behind  the  white  handkerchief  which  I  held  up  to  my 
face,  as  we  rode  home,  till  the  tears  came  into  my 
eyes. 

"But  though  I  had  carried  my  object,  and  killed  her, 
I  was  restless  and  disturbed,  and  I  felt  that,  before  long, 
my  secret  must  be  known.  I  could  not  hide  the  wild 
mirth  and  joy  which  boiled  within  me,  and  made  me, 
when  I  was  alone  at  home,  jump  up  and  beat  my  hands 
together,  and  dance  round  and  round,  and  roar  aloud. 
When  I  went  out,  and  saw  the  busy  crowds  hurrying 


152  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


about  the  streets;  or  to  the  theatre,  and  heard  the  sound 
of  music,  and  beheld  the  people  dancing,  I  felt  such  glee 
that  I  could  have  rushed  among  them,  and  torn  them 
to  pieces  limb  from  limb,  and  howled  in  transport.  But 
I  ground  my  teeth,  and  struck  my  feet  upon  the  floor, 
and  drove  my  sharp  nails  into  my  hands.  I  kept  it 
down;  and  no  one  knew  I  was  a  madman  yet. 

^^I  remember,  though  it's  one  of  the  last  things  I  can 
remember — for  now  I  mix  realities  with  my  dreams,  and 
having  so  much  to  do,  and  being  always  hurried  here, 
have  no  time  to  separate  the  two  from  some  strange 
confusion  in  which  they  get  involved — I  remember  how 
I  let  it  out  at  last.  Ha!  ha!  I  think  I  see  their  fright- 
ened looks  now,  and  feel  the  ease  with  which  I  flung 
them  from  me,  and  dashed  my  clenched  fist  into  their 
white  faces,  and  then  flew  like  the  wind,  and  left  them 
screaming  and  shouting  far  behind.  The  strength  of  a 
giant  comes  upon  me  when  I  think  of  it.  There — see 
how  this  iron  bar  bends  beneath  my  furious  wrench.  I 
could  snap  it  like  a  twig,  only  there  are  long  galleries 
here  with  many  doors — I  don't  think  I  could  find  my 
way  along  them:  and  even  if  I  could,  I  know  there  are 
iron  gates  below  which  they  keep  locked  and  barred. 
They  know  what  a  clever  madman  I  have  been,  and 
they  are  proud  to  have  me  here,  to  show. 

Let  me  see;  yes,  I  had  been  out.  It  was  late  at  night 
when  I  reached  home,  and  found  the  proudest  .of  the 
three  proud  brothers  waiting  to  see  me — urgent  business 
he  said:  I  recollect  it  well.  I  hated  that  man  with  all  a 
madman's  hate.  Many  and  many  a  time  had  my  fingers 
longed  to  tear  him.  They  told  me  he  was  there.  I  ran 
swiftly  up  stairs.  He  had  a  word  to  say  to  me.  I  dis- 
missed the  servants.  It  was  late,  and  we  were  alone 
together — for  the  first  time. 

"1  kept  my  eyes  carefully  from  him  at  first,  for  I 
knew  what  he  little  thought — and  I  gloried  in  the  knowl- 
edge— that  the  light  of  madness  gleamed  from  them  like 
fire.  We  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes.  He  spoke 
at  last.  My  recent  dissipation,  and  strange  remarks, 
made  so  soon  after  his  sister's  death,  were  an  insult  to 
her  memory.  Coupling  together  manj^  circumstances 
which  had  at  first  escaped  his  observation,  he  thought  I 
had  not  treated  her  well.  He  wished  to  know  whether 
he  was  right  in  inferring  that  I  meant  to  cast  a  reproach 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


153 


upon  her  memory,  and  a  disrespect  upon  her  family.  It 
was  due  to  the  uniform  he  wore  to  demand  this  explan- 
ation. 

"  This  man  had  a  commission  in  the  army — a  commis- 
sion purchased  with  my  money,  and  his  sister's  misery! 
This  was  the  man  who  had  been  foremost  in  the  plot  to 
ensnare  me,  and  grasp  my  wealth.  This  was  the  man 
who  had  been  the  main  instrument  in  forcing  his  sister 
to  wed  me;  well  knowing  that  her  heart  had  been  given  * 
to  that  puling  boy.  Due!  Due  to  his  uniform!  The 
livery  of  his  degradation!  I  turned  my  eyes  upon  him 
— I  could  not  help  it — but  I  spoke  not  a  word. 

I  saw  the  sudden  change  that  came  upon  him  beneath 
my  gaze.  He  was  a  bold  man,  but  the  colour  faded  from 
his  face,  and  he  drew  back  his  chair.  I  dragged  mine 
nearer  to  him;  and  as  I  laughed — I  was  very  merry 
then — I  saw  him  shudder.  I  felt  the  madness  rising 
within  me.    He  was  afraid  of  me. 

'^*You  were  very  fond  of  your  sister  when  she  was 
alive' — I  said — 'very.' 

^'  He  looked  uneasily  round  him,  and  I  saw  his  hand 
grasp  the  back  of  his  chair;  but  he  said  nothing. 

'  You  villain,'  said  I,  '  I  found  you  out:  I  discovered 
your  hellish  plots  against  me ;  I  know  her  heart  was 
fixed  on  some  one  else  before  you  compelled  her  to 
marry  me.    I  know  it — I  know  it.' 

He  jumped  suddenly  from  his  chair,  brandished  it 
aloft,  and  bid  me  stand  back — for  I  took  care  to  be 
getting  closer  to  him,  all  the  time  I  spoke. 

I  screamed  rather  than  talked,  for  I  felt  tumultuous 
passions  eddying  through  my  veins,  and  the  old  spirits 
whispering  and  taunting  me  to  tear  his  heart  out. 

'  Damn  you,'  said  I,  starting  up,  and  rushing  upon 
him;  'I  killed  her.  I  am  a  madman.  Down  with  you. 
Blood,  blood  !  I  will  have  it  ! ' 

I  turned  aside  with  one  blow  the  chair  he  hurled  at 
me  in  his  terror,  and  closed  with  him;  and  with  a  heavy 
crash  we  rolled  upon  the  floor  together. 

"  It  was  a  fine  straggle  that;  for  he  was  a  tall,  strong 
man,  fighting  for  his  life;  and  I  a  powerful  madman, 
thirsting  to  destroy  him.  I  knew  no  strength  could 
equal  mine,  and  I  was  right.  Right  again,  though  a 
madman !  His  struggles  grew  fainter.  I  knelt  upon 
hi$  chest,  and  clasped  his  brawny  throat  firmly  with 


154  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


both  hands.  His*  face  grew  purple;  his  eyes  were  start- 
ing from  his  head,  and  with  protruded  tongue  he  seemed 
to  mock  me.    1  squeezed  the  tighter. 

The  door  was  suddenly  burst  open  with  a  loud  noise, 
and  a  crowd  of  people  rushed  forward,  crying  aloud  to 
each  other  to  secure  the  madman. 

"  My  secret  was  out;  and  my  only  struggle  now  was 
for  liberty  and  freedom.  I  gained  my  feet  before  a 
hand  was  on  me,  threw  myself  among  my  assailants, 
and  cleared  my  way  with  my  strong  arm  as  if  I  bore  a 
hatchet  in  my  hand  and  hewed  them  down  before  me. 
I  gained  the  door,  dropped  over  the  banisters,  and  in  an 
instant  was  in  the  street. 

"Straight  and  swift  Iran,  and  no  one  dared  to  stop 
me.  I  heard  the  noise  of  feet  behind,  and  redoubled  my 
speed.  It  grew  fainter  and  fainter  in  the  distance,  and 
at  length  died  away  altogether ;  but  on  I  bounded, 
through  marsh  and  rivulet,  over  fence  and  wall,  with  a 
wild  shout,  which  was  taken  up  by  the  strange  beings 
that  flocked  around  me  on  every  side,  and  swelled  the 
sound  till  it  pierced  the  air.  I  was  borne  upon  the  arms 
of  demons  who  swept  along  upon  the  wind,  and  bore 
down  bank  and  hedge  before  them,  and  spun  me  round 
and  round  with  a  rustle  and  speed  that  made  my  head 
swim,  until  at  last  they  threw  me  from  them  with  a 
violent  shock,  and  I  fell  heavily  upon  the  earth.  When 
I  woke,  I  found  myself  here — here  in  this  gay  cell, 
where  the  sunlight  seldom  comes,  and  the  moon  steals 
in  in  rays  which  only  serve  to  show  the  dark  shadows 
about  me,  and  that  silent  figure  in  its  old  corner.  When 
I  lie  awake,  I  can  sometimes  hear  strange  shrieks  and 
cries  from  distant  parts  of  this  large  place.  What  they 
are,  I  know  not;  but  they  neither  come  from  that  pale 
form,  nor  does  it  regard  them.  For  from  the  first  shades 
of  dusk  till  the  earliest  light  of  morning,  it  still  stands 
motionless  in  the  same  place,  listening  to  the  music  of 
my  iron  chain,  and  watching  my  gambols  on  my  straw 
bed." 

At  the  end  of  the  manuscript  was  written,  in  another 
hand,  this  note : 

[The  unhappy  man  whose  ravines  are  recorded  above 
was  a  melancholy  instance  of  the  baneful  results  of  en- 
ergies misdirected  in  early  life,  and  excesses  prolonged 
until  their  consequences  could  never  be  repaired.  The 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


155 


thoughtless  riot,  dissipation,  and  debauchery  of  his 
younger  days  produced  fever  and  delirium.  The  •  first 
effects  of  the  latter  was  the  strange  delusion,  founded 
upon  a  well-known  medical  theory,  strongly  contended 
for  by  some,  and  as  strongly  contested  by  others,  that 
an  hereditary  madness  existed  in  his  family.  This  pro- 
duced a  settled  gloom,  which  in  time  developed  a  morbid 
insanity,  and  finally  terminated  in  raving  madness. 
There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  events  he  de- 
tailed, though  distorted  in  the  description  by  his  diseased 
imagination,  really  happened.  It  is  only  matter  of 
wonder  to  those  who  were  acquainted  with  the  vices  of 
his  early  career,  that  his  passions,  when  no  longer  con- 
trolled by  reason,  did  not  lead  him  to  the  commission  of 
still  more  frightful  deeds.] 

Mr.  Pickwick's  candle  was  just  expiring  in  the  socket 
as  he  concluded  the  perusal  of  the  old  clergyman's  man- 
uscript ;  and  when  the  light  went  suddenly  out,  without 
any  previous  flicker  by  way  of  warning,  it  communi- 
cated a  very  considerable  start  to  his  excited  frame. 
Hastily  throwing  off  such  articles  of  clothing  as  he  had 
put  on  when  he  rose  from  his  uneasy  bed,  and  casting  a 
fearful  glance  around,  he  once  more  scrambled  hastily 
between  the  sheets,  and  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  into  his  chamber  when 
he  awoke,  and  the  morning  was  far  advanced.  The 
gloom  which  had  oppressed  him  the  previous  night  had 
disappeared  with  the  dark  shadows  which  shrouded  the 
landscape,  and  his  thoughts  and  his  feelings  were  as 
light  and  gay  as  the"  morning  itself.  After  a  hearty 
breakfast,  the  four  gentlemen  sallied  forth  to  walk  to 
Gravesend,  followed  by  a  man  bearing  the  stone  in  its 
deal  box.  They  reached  that  town  about  one  o'clock, 
(their  luggage  they  had  directed  to  be  forwarded  to  the 
city  from  Rochester),  and  being  fortunate  enough  to  se- 
cure places  on  the  outside  of  a  coach,  arrived  in  London, 
in  sound  health  and  spirits,  on  that  same  afternoon. 

The  next  three  or  four  days  were  occupied  with  the 
preparations  which  were  necessary  for  their  journey  to 
the  borough  of  Eatanswill.  As  any  reference  to  that 
most  important  undertaking  demands  a  separate  chap- 
ter, we  may  devote  the  few  lines  which  remain  at  the 
close  of  this  to  narrate,  with  great  brevity,  the  history 
of  the  antiquarian  discovery. 


156  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


It  appears  from  the  Transactions  of  the  Club,  then, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  lectured  upon  the  discovery  at  a 
General  Club  Meeting,  convened  on  the  night  succeeding 
their  return,  and  entered  into  a  variety  of  ingenious  and 
erudite  speculations  on  the  meaning  of  the  inscription. 
It  also  appears  that  a  skilful  artist  executed  a  faithful 
delineation  of  the  curiosity,  which  was  engraven  on 
stone,  and  presented  to  the  Royal  Antiquarian  Society, 
and  other  learned  bodies — that  heart-burnings  and  jeal- 
ousies without  number  were  created  by  rival  contro- 
versies which  were  penned  upon  the  subject — and  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  himself  wrote  a  pamphlet,  containing 
ninety-six  pages  of  very  small  print,  and  twenty-seven 
different  readings  of  the  inscription.  That  three  old 
gentleman  cut  off  their  eldest  sons  with  a  shilling  apiece 
for  presuming  to  doubt  the  antiquity  of  the  fragment — 
and  that  one  enthusiastic  individual  cut  himself  off  pre- 
maturely, in  despair  at  being  unable  to  fathom  the 
meaning.  That  Mr.  Pickwick  was  elected  an  honorary 
member  of  seventeen  native  and  foreign  societies,  for 
making  the  discovery;  that  none  of  the  seventeen  could 
make  anything  of  it,  but  that  all  the  seventeen  agreed 
it  was  very  extraordinary. 

Mr.  Blotton,  indeed — and  the  name  will  be  doomed  to 
the  undying  contempt  of  those  who  cultivate  the  mys- 
terious and  the  sublime — Mr.  Blotton,  we  say,  with  the 
doubt  and  cavilling  peculiar  to  vulgar  minds,  presumed 
to  state  a  view  of  the  case  as  degrading  as  ridiculous. 
Mr.  Blotton,  with  a  mean  desire  to  tarnish  the  lustre  of 
the  immortal  name  of  Pickwick,*  actually  undertook  a 
journey  to  Cobham  in  person^  and  on  his  return  sarcas- 
tically observed,  in  an  oration  at  the  club,  that  he  had 
seen  the  man  from  whom  the  stone  was  purchased;  that 
the  man  presumed  the  stone  to  be  ancient,  but  solemnly 
denied  the  antiquity  of  the  inscription — inasmuch  as  he 
represented  it  to  have  been  rudely  carved  by  himself  in 
an  idle  mood,  and  to  display  letters  intended  to  bear 
neither  more  nor  less  than  the  simple  construction  of 
''Bill  Stumps,  his  mark;"  and  that  Mr.  Stumps,  being 
little  in  the  habit  of  original  composition,  and  more  ac- 
customed to  be  guided  by  the  sound  of  words  than  by 
the  strict  rules  of  orthography,  had  omitted  the  con- 
cluding ''L"  of  his  Christian  name. 

The  Pickwick  Club,  as  might  have  been  expected  from 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


157 


so  enlightened  an  institution,  received  this  statement 
with  the  contempt  it  deserved,  expelled  the  presumptu- 
ous and  ill-conditioned  Blotton  from  the  society,  and 
voted  Mr.  Pickwick  a  pair  of  gold  spectacles,  in  token 
of  their  confidence  and  approbation;  in  return  for  which 
Mr.  Pickwick  caused  a  portrait  of  himself  to  be  painted, 
and  hung  up  in  the  club-room;  which  portrait,  by  the 
by,  he  did  not  wish  to  have  destroyed  v/hen  he  grew  a 
few  years  older. 

Mr.  Blotton  was  ejected  but  not  conquered.  He  also 
wrote  a  pamphlet,  addressed  to  the  seventeen  learned 
societies,  containing  a  repetition  of  the  statement  that 
he  had  already  made,  and  rather  more  than  half  inti- 
mating his  opinion  that  the  seventeen  learned  societies 
aforesaid  were  so  many  ''humbugs."  Hereupon,  the 
virtuous  indignation  of  the  seventeen  learned  societies 
being  roused,  several  fresh  pamphlets  appeared;  the 
foreign  learned  societies  being  roused,  several  fresh 
pamphlets  appeared;  the  foreign  learned  societies  cor- 
responded with  the  native  learned  societies,  the  native 
learned  societies  translated  the  pamphlets  of  the  foreign 
learned  societies  into  English,  the  foreign  learned  socie- 
ties translated  the  pamphlets  of  the  native  learned 
societies  into  all  sorts  of  languages ;  and  thus  com- 
menced that  celebrated  scientific  discussion  so  well 
known  to  all  men  as  the  Pickwick  controversy. 

But  this  base  attempt  to  injure  Mr.  Pickwick,  recoiled 
upon  the  head  of  its  calumnious  author.  The  seventeen 
learned  societies  unanimously  voted  the  presumptuous 
Blotton  an  ignorant  meddler,  and  forthwith  set  to  work 
upon  more  treatises  than  ever.  And  to  this  day  the 
stone  remains  an  illegible  monument  of  Mr.  Pickwick's 
greatness,  and  a  lasting  trophy  to  the  littleness  of  Ijis 
enemies. 


158  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


.CHAPTER  XII. 

DESCRIPTIVE  OF  A  VERY  IMPORTANT  PROCEEDING  ON  THE 
PART  OF  MR.  PICKWICK;   NO  LESS  AN  EPOCH  IN 
HIS  LIFE  THAN  IN  THIS  HISTORY. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  apartments  in  Goswell  Street,  although 
on  a  limited  scale,  were  not  only  of  a  very  neat  and  com- 
fortable description,  but  peculiarly  adapted  for  the  resi- 
dence of  a  man  of  his  genius  and  observation.  His 
sitting-room  was  the  first  floor  front,  his  bedroom  the 
second  floor  front;  and  thus,  whether  he  were  sitting 
at  his  desk  in  the  parlor,  or  standing  before  the  dress- 
ing-glass in  his  dormitory,  he  had  an  equal  opportunity 
of  contemplating  human  nature,  in  all  the  numerous 
phases  it  exhibits,  in  that  not  more  populous  than  popu- 
lar thoroughfare.  His  landlady,  Mrs.  Bardell — the 
relict  and  sole  executrix  of  a  deceased  custom-house 
officer — was  a  comely  woman  of  bustling  manners  and 
agreeable  appearance,  with  a  natural  genius  for  cook- 
ing, improved  by  study  and  long  practice  into  an  ex- 
quisite talent.  There  were  no  children,  no  servants,  no 
fowls.  The  only  other  inmates  of  the  house  were  a 
large  man  and  a  small  boy;  the  first  a  lodger,  .the  se- 
cond a  production  of  Mrs.  Bardell's.  The  large  man  was 
always  home  precisely  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  at  which 
hour  he  regularly  condensed  himself  into  the  limits  of 
a  dwarfish  French  bedstead  in  the  back  parlour;  and 
the  infantine  sports  and  gymnastic  exercises  of  Master 
Bardell  were  exclusively  confined  to  the  neighbouring 
pavements  and  gutters.  Cleanliness  and  quiet  reigned 
throughout  the  house;  and  in  it  Mr.  Pickwick's  will  was 
law. 

To  any  one  acquainted  with  these  points  of  the  do- 
mestic economy  of  the  establishment,  and  conversant 
with  the  admirable  regulation  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  mind, 
his  appearance  and  behaviour  on  the  morning  previous 
to  that  which  had  been  fixed  upon  for  the  jouAiey  to 
Eatanswill  would  have  been  most  mysterious  and  un- 
accountable. He  paced  the  room  to  and  fro  with  hur- 
ried steps,  popped  his  head  out  of  the  window  at  inter- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


159 


vals  of  about  three  minutes  each,  constantly  referred  to 
his  watch,  and  exhibited  many  other  manifestations  of 
impatience,  very  unusual  with  him.  It  was  evident 
that  something  of  great  importance  was  in  contempla- 
tion, but  what  that  something  was  not  even  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell  herself  had  been  enabled  to  discover. 

''Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  last,  as  that 
amiable  female  approached  the  termination  of  a  pro- 
longed dusting  of  the  apartment — 

^'Sir?"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

''Your  little  boy  is  a  very  long  time  gone." 

''Why,  it's  a  good  long  way  to  the  Borough,  -sir,"  re- 
monstrated Mrs.  Bardell. 

"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "very  true;  so  it  is." 

Mr.  Pickwick  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Mrs.  Bardell 
resumed  her  dusting. 

"Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mr.  Pickw:ick,  at  the  expiration 
of  a  few  minutes. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell  again. 

"Do  you  think  it's  a  mucii  greater  expense  to  keep 
two  people  than  to  keep  one?" 

"  La,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  colouring  up 
to  the  very  border  of  her  cap,  as  she  fancied  she  ob- 
served a  species  of  matrimonial  twinkle  in  the  eyes  of 
her  lodger.  "La,  Mr.  Pickwick,  what  a  question!" 

"Well,  but  do  you?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"That  depends,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  approaching  the 
duster  very  near  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  elbow,  which  was 
pla^ited  on  the  table — "that  depends  a  good  deal  upon 
the  person,  you  know,  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  whether  it's  a 
saving  and  careful  pers3n,  sir." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "but  the  per- 
son I  have  in  my  eye  (here  he  looked  very  hard  at  Mrs. 
Bardell)  I  think  j^ossesses  these  qualities;  and  has, 
moreover,  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  a 
great  deal  of  sharpness,  Mrs.  Bardell;  which  may  be  of 
material  use  to  me." 

"La,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell;  the  crimson 
rising  to  her  cap-border  again. 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  energetic,  as  was 
his  wont  in  speaking  of  a  subject  which  interested  him, 
"  I  do,  indeed;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Bardell.  I 
have  made  up  my  mind." 

"  Dear  me,  sir,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell. 


160  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


You'll  think  it  very  strange  now/'  said  the  amiable 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  good-humoured  glance  at  his  com- 
panion, ''that  I  never  consulted  you  about  this  matter, 
and  never  even  mentioned  it  till  I  sent  your  little  boy 
out  this  morning — eh?" 

Mrs.  Bardell  could  only  reply  by  a  look.  She  had  long 
worshipped  Mr.  Pickwick  at  a  distance,  but  here  she 
was,  all  at  once,  raised  to  a  pinnacle  to  which  her  wildest 
and  most  extravagant  hopes  had  never  dared  to  aspire. 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  going  to  propose — a  deliberate  plan, 
too — sent  her  little  boy  to  the  Borough,  to  get  him  out  of 
the  way — how  thoughtful — how  considerate! 

''Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''what  do  you  think?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  trembling 
with  agitation,  "  you're  very  kind,  sir." 

"  It'll  save  you  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  won't  it?"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Oh,  I  never  thought  anything  of  the  trouble,  sir," 
replied  Mrs.  Bardell;  "and  of  course  I  should  take  more 
trouble  to  please  you  then  than  ever;  but  it  is  so  kind 
of  you,  Mr.  Pickwick^  to  have  so  much  consideration 
for  my  loneliness." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  I  never  thought 
of  that.  When  I  am  in  town,  you'll  always  have  some- 
body to  sit  with  you.    To  be  sure,  so  you  will." 

"I'm  sure  I  ought  to  be  a  very  happy  woman,"  said 
Mrs.  Bardell. 

"And  your  little  boy/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Bless  his  heart,"  interposed  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a 
maternal  sob. 

"  He,  too,  will  have  a  companion,"  resumed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; "a  lively  one,  who'll  teach  him,  I'll  be  bound, 
more  tricks  in  a  week  than  he  would  ever  learn  in  a 
year."  And  Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  placidly. 

"  Oh,  you  dear — "  said  Mrs.  Bardell.  . 

Mr.  Pickwick  started. 

"Oh,  you  kind,  good,  playful  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell; and  without  more  ado  she  rose  from  her  chair^  and 
flung  her  arms  round  Mr.  Pickwick's  neck,  with  a  cata- 
ract of  tears  and  a  chorus  of  sobs. 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  cried  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick — 
"  Mrs.  Bardell,  my  good  woman — dear  me,  what  a 
situation — pray  consider.  Mrs.  Bardell,  don't — if  any- 
body should  come — " 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


1()1 


^H)h,  let  them  come,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell,  frantic- 
ally; I'll  never  leave  you — dear,  kind,  good  soul;"  and 
with  these  words  Mrs.  Bardell  clung  the  tighter. 

Mercy  upon  me."  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  struggling  vio- 
lently, I  hear  somebody  coming  up  the  stairs.  Don't, 
don't,  there's  a  good  creature,  don't."  But  entreaty  and 
remonstrance  were  alike  unavailing:  for  Mrs.  Bardell 
had  fainted  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  arms;  and  before  he  could 
gain  time  to  deposit  her  on  a  chair  Master  Bardell  en- 
tered the  room,  ushering  in  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle, 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass.  * 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  struck  motionless  and  speechless. 
He  stood  with  his  lovely  burden  in  his  arms,  gazing 
vacantly  on  the  countenances  of  his  friends,  without 
the  slightest  attempt  at  recognition  or  explanation. 
They,  in  their  turn,  stared  at  him;  and  Master  Bardell, 
in  his  turn,  stared  at  everybody. 

The  astonishment  of  the  Pickwickians  was  so  absorb- 
ing, and  the  perplexity  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  so  extreme, 
that  they  might  have  remained  in  exactly  the  same 
relative  situations  until  the  suspended  animation  of  the 
lady  was  restored,  had  it  not  been  for  a  most  beautiful 
and  touching  expression  of  filial  affection  on  the  part 
of  her  youthful  son.  Clad  in  a  tight  suit  of  corduroy, 
spangled  with  brass  buttons  of  a  very  considerable  size, 
he  at  first  stood  at  the  door  astounded  and  uncertain; 
but  by  degrees  the  impression  that  his  mother  must 
have  suffered  some  personal  damage  pervaded  his  par- 
tially developed  mind,  and  considering  Mr.  Pickwick  as 
the  aggressor,  he  set  up  an  appalling  and  semi-earthly 
kind  of  howling,  and  butting  forward  with  his  head, 
commenced  assailing  that  immortal  gentleman  about 
the  back  and  legs,  with  such  blows  and  pinches  as  the 
strength  of  his  arm,  and  the  violence  of  his  excitement, 
allowed. 

Take  this  little  villain  away,"  said  the  agonized  Mr. 
Pickwick,  "  he's  mad." 

''What  is  the  matter?"  said  the  three  tongue-tied 
Pickwickians. 

''I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  pettishly. 
''Take  away  the  boy"— (here  Mr.  Winkle  carried  tlie 
interesting  boy ,  screaming  and  struggling,  to  the  further 
end  of  the  apartment). — "  Now,  help  me  lead  this  woman 
down  stairs." 


1C3 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Oh,  I  am  better  now,  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  faintly.  . 
''Let  me  lead  you  down  stairs,"  said  the  ever  gallant 
Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Thajik  you,  sir — thank  you,  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell, hysterically.  And  down  stairs  she  was  led  accord- 
ingly, accompanied  by  her  affectionate  son. 

''I  cannot  conceive,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  his 
friend  returned — "  I  cannot  conceive  what  has  been  the 
matter  ?v^ith  that  woman.  I  had  merely  announced  to 
her  my  intention  of  keeping  a  man  servant,  when  she 
fell  into  th^  extraordinary  paroxysm  in  which  you  found 
her.    Very  extraordinary  thing." 


"  Placed  me  in  such  an  extremely  awkward  situation," 
continued  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Very,"  was  the  reply  of  his  followers,  as  they  coughed 
slightly,  and  looked  dubiously  at  each  other. 

This  behaviour  was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Pickwick.  He 
remarked  their  incredulity.  They  evidently  suspected 
him. 

"  There  is  a  man  in  the  passage  now,"  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man. 

''It's  the  man  I  spoke  to  you  about,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  I  sent  for  him  to  the  Borough  this  morning.  Have 
the  goodness  to  call  him  up,  Snodgrass." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  did  as  he  was  desired;  and  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller  forthwith  presented  himself. 

"Oh — you  remember  me,  I  suppose?"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"I  should  think  so,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  patronizing 
wink.  "Queer  start  that  'ere,  but  he  was  one  too 
many  for  you,  warn't  he?  Up  to  snuff  and  a  pinch  or 
(wo  over — eh?" 

"Nevermind  that  matter  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
liastily,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  something  else. 
Sit  down." 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,"  said  Sam.  And  down  he  sat  without 
further  bidding,  having  previously  deposited  his  old 
v\rhite  hat  on  the  landing  outside  the  door.  "  Ta'nt  a 
Averry  good  'un  to  look  at,"  said  Sam,  "  but  it's  an  aston- 
ishin'  'un  to  wear;  and  afore  the  brim  went  it  was  a 
worry  handsome  tile.  Hows'ever  it's  lighter  without  it, 
that's  one  thing,  and  every  hole  lets  in  some  air,  that's 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  163 

another — wentillation  gossamer  I  calls  it."  On  the  de- 
livery of  this  sentiment,  Mr.  Weller  smiled  agreeably 
upon  the  assembled  Pickwickians. 

Now,  with  regard  to  the  matter  on  which  I,  with  the 
concurrence  of  these  gentlemen,  sent  for  you,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''That's  the  pint,  sir,"  interposed  Sam;  "outvith  it, 
as  the  father  said  to  the  child,  wen  he  swallowed  a 
farden.' 

''We  want  to  know,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, "whether  you  have  any  reason  to  be  discontented 
with  your  present  situation." 

"  Afore  i  answers  that  'ere  question,  gen'lm'n,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller,  "/should  like  to  know,  in  the  first  place, 
whether  you're  a-goin'  to  purwide  me  with  a  better." 

A  sunbeam  of  placid  benevolence  played  on  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's features  as  he  said,  "I  have  half  made  up  my 
mind  to  engage  you  myself." 

"Have  you,  though?"  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"Wages?"  inquired  Sam. 

"Twelve  pounds  a  year,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
•"Clothes?" 
"Two  suits." 
"Work?" 

"To  attend  upon  me;  and  travel  about  with  me  and 
these  gentlemen  here." 

"Take  the  bill  down,"  said  Sam,  emphatically.  "  I'm 
let  to  a  single  gentleman,  and  the  terms  is  agreed  upon." 

"You  accept  the  situation?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Cert'nly,"  replied  Sam.  If  the  clothes  fits  me  half 
as  well  as  the  place,  they'll  do." 

"You  can  get  a  character,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Ask  the  landlady  o'  the  White  Hart  about  that,  sir," 
replied  Sam. 
"  Can  you  come  thie  evening?" 

"  I'll  get  into  the  clothes  this  minute,  if  they're  here," 
said  Sam,  with  great  alacrity. 

"  Call  at  eight  this  evening,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  and 
if  the  inquiries  are  satisfactorv,  they  shall  be  provided. 

With  the  single  exception  or  one  amiable  indiscretion, 
in  which  an  assistant  housemaid  had  equally  partici- 
pated, the  history  of  Mr.  Weller's  conduct  was  so  very 


164  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


blameless  that  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  fully  justified  in  clos- 
ing the  engagement  that  very  evening.  With  the 
promptness  and  energy  which  characterized  not  only 
the  public  proceedings,  but  all  the  private  actions  of  this 
extraordinary  man,  he  at  once  led  his  new  attendant  to 
one  of  those  convenient  emporiums  where  gentlemen's 
new  and  second-hand  clothes  are  provided,  and  the 
troublesome  and  inconvenient  formality  of  measure- 
ment dispensed  with;  and  before  night  had  closed  in, 
Mr.  Weller  was  furnished  with  a  grey  coat  with  the  '  P. 
C  button,  a  black  hat  with  a  cockade  to  it,  a  pink 
striped  waistcoat,  light  breeches  and  gaiters,  and  a 
variety  of  other  necessaries  too  numerous  to  recapitu- 
late. 

"  Well,"  said  that  suddenly-transformed  individual,  as 
he  took  his  seat  on  the  outside  of  the  Eatanswill  coach 
next  morning;  ''I  wonder  whether  I'm  meant  to  be  a 
footman,  or  a  groom,  or  a  gamekeeper,  or  a  seedsman. 
I  looks  like  a  sort  of  compo  of  every  one  on  'em.  Never 
mind;  there's  change  of  air,  plenty  to  see,  and  little  to 
do;  and  all  this  suits  my  complaint  uncommon;  so  long 
life  to  the  Pickvicks,  says  I!" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SOME  ACCOUNT  OP  EATANSWILL;  OF  THE  STATE  OP  PARTIES 
THEREIN;  AND  OP  THE  ELECTION  OF  A  MEMBER  TO 
SERVE  IN  PARLIAMENT  FOR  THAT  ANCIENT,  LOYAL, 
AND  PATRIOTIC  BOROUGH. 

We  will  frankly  acknowledge  that,  up  to  the  period  of 
our  being  first  immersed  in  the  voluminous  papers  of 
the  Pickwick  Club,  we  had  never  heard  of  Eatanswill ; 
we  will  with  equal  candour  admit  that  we  have  in  vain 
searched  for  proof  of  the  actual  existence  of  such  a  place 
at  the  present  day.  Knowing  the  deep  reliance  to  be 
placed  on  every  note  and  statement  of  Mr.  Pickwick's, 
and  not  presuming  to  set  up  our  recollection  against  the 
recorded  declarations  of  that  great  man,  we  have  con- 
sulted every  authority  bearing  upon  the  subject,  to 
which  we  could  possibly  refer.  We  have  traced  every 
name  in  schedules  A  and  B,  without  meeting  with  that 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


165 


of  Eatanswill;  we  have  minutely  examined  every  cor- 
ner of  the  Pocket  County  Maps  issued  for  the  benefit  of 
society  by  our  distinguished  publishers,  and  the  same 
result  has  attended  our  investigation.  We  are  therefore 
led  to  believe  that  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  that  anxious  de- 
sire to  abstain  from  giving  offence  to  any,  and  with 
those  delicate  feelings  for  which  all  who  knew  him  well 
know  he  was  so  eminently  remarkable,  purposely  sub- 
stituted a  fictitious  designation  for  the  real  name  of  the 
place  in  which  his  observations  were  made.  We  are 
confirmed  in  this  belief  by  a  little  circumstance,  appar^ 
ently  slight  and  trivial  in  itself,  but  when  considered  in 
this  point  of  view  not  underserving  of  notice.  In  Mr^ 
Pickwick's  note-book,  we  can  just  trace  an  entry  of  the 
fact  that  the  places  of  himself  and  followers  were  booked 
by  the  Norwich  coach  ;  but  this  entry  was  afterwards 
lined  through,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  concealing  even 
the  direction  in  which  the  borough  is  situated.  We  will 
not,  therefore,  hazard  a  guess  upon  the  subject,  but  will 
at  once  proceed  with  this  history;  content  with  the  ma- 
terials which  its  characters  have  provided  for  us. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  Eatanswill  people,  like  the 
people  of  many  other  small  towns,  considered  themselves 
of  the  utmost  and  most  mighty  importance,  and  that 
every  man  in  Eatanswill,  conscious  of  the  weight  that 
attached  to  his  example,  felt  himself  bound  to  unite, 
heart  and  soul,  with  one  of  the  two  great  parties  that 
divided  the  town — the  Blues  and  Buffs.  Now  the 
Blues  lost  no  opportunity  of  opposing  the  Buffs,  and  the 
Buffs  lost  no  opportunity  of  opposing  the  Blues;  and  the 
consequence  was,  that  whenever  the  Buffs  and  Blues 
met  together  at  public  meeting,  Town-Hall,  fair,  or 
market,  disputes  and  high  words  arose  between  them. 
With  these  dissensions  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  say 
that  everything  in  Eatanswill  was  made  a  party-ques- 
tion. If  the  Buffs  proposed  to  new  skylight  the  market- 
place, the  Blues  got  uf)  public  meetings,  and  denounced 
the  proceeding;  if  the  Blues  proposed  the  erection  of  an 
additional  pump  in  the  High  Street,  the  Buffs  rose  as 
one  man  and  stood  aghast  at  the  enormity.  There  were 
Blue  shops  and  Buff  shops.  Blue  inns  and  Buff  inns — 
there  was  a  Blue  aisle  and  a  Buff  aisle  in  the  very 
church  itself. 

Of  course  it  was  essentially  and  indispensably  neces- 


166 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


sary  that  each  of  these  powerful  parties  should  have  its 
choser  organ  and  representative  ;  and,  accordingly^, 
there  were  two  newspapers  in  the  town — the  Eatanswill 
Gazette  and  the  Eatanswill  Independent ;  the  former 
advocating  Blue  principles,  and  the  latter  conducted  on 
grounds  decidedly  Buff.  Fine  newspapers  they  were. 
Such  leading  articles,  and  such  spirited  attacks* ! — '^Our 
worthless  contemporary,  the  Gazette' That  disgrace- 
ful and  dastardly  journai,the  Independent" — That  false 
and  scurrilous  print,  the  Independent" — ''That  vile  and 
glanderous  calumniator,  the  Gazette  " — these  and  other 
spirit-stirring  denunciations  were  strewn  plentifully 
over  the  columns  of  each,  in  every  number,  and  excited 
feelings  of  the  most  intense  delight  and  indignation  in 
the  bosoms  of  the  townspeople. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  usual  foresight  and  sagacity, 
had  chosen  a  peculiarly  desirable  moment  for  a  visit  to  the 
borough.  Never  was  such  a  contest  known.  The  hon- 
ourable Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  was  the  Blue 
candidate  ;  and  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esq.,  of  Fizkin  Lodge, 
near  Eatanswill,  had  been  prevailed  upon  by  his  friends 
to  stand  forward  on  the  Buff  interest.  The  Gazette 
warned  the  electors  of  Eatanswill  that  the  eyes  not  only 
of  England,  but  the  whole  civilized  world,  were  upon 
them  ;  and  the  Independent  imperatively  demanded 
to  know  whether  the  constituency  of  Eatanswill  were 
the  grand  fellows  they  had  always  taken  them  for,  or 
base  and  servile  tools,  underserving  alike  of  the  name 
of  Englishmen  and  the  blessings  of  freedom.  Never  had 
such  a  commotion  agitated  the  town  before. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
companions,  assisted  by  Sam,  dismounted  from  the  roof 
of  the  Eatanswill  coach.  Large  blue  silk  flags  were 
flying  from  the  windows  of  the  Town  Arms  Inn,  and  bills 
were  posted  in  every  sash,  intimating,  in  gigantic  letters, 
that  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey 's  committee  sa: 
there  daily.  A  crowd  of  idlers  were  assembled  in  the 
road,  looking  at  a  hoarse  man  in  the  balcony,  who  was 
apparently  talking  himself  very  red  in  the  face  in  Mr. 
Slumkey's  behalf ;  but  the  force  and  point  of  v/hose 
arguments  were  somewhat  impaired  by  the  perpetual 
beating  of  four  large  drums  which  Mr.  Fizkin's  commit- 
tee had  stationed  at  the  street  corner.  There  was  a  busy 
little  man  beside  him,  though,  who  took  off  his  hat  sit 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


167 


intervals  and  motioned  to  the  people  to  cheer,  which 
they  regularly  did  most  enthusiastically;  and  as  the 
i-ed-faced  gentleman  went  on  talking  till  he  was  redder 
in  the  face  than  ever,  it  seemed  to  answer  his  purpose 
quite  as  well  as  if  anybody  had  heard  him. 

The  Pickwickians  had  no  sooner  dismounted  than  they 
were  surrounded  by  a  branch  mob  of  the  honest  and  inde- 
pendent, who  forthwith  set  up  three  deafening  cheers, 
which,  being  responded  to  by  the  main  body  (for  it's  not 
at  all  necessary  for  a  crowd  to  know  wlfiat  they  are 
cheering  about),  swelled  into  a  tremendous  roar  of 
triumph,  which  stopped  even  the  red-faced  man  in  the 
balcony. 

"  Hurrah  ! "  shouted  the  mob,  in  conclusion. 
One  cheer  more,"  screamed  the  little  fugleman  in  the 
balcony,  and  out  shouted  the  mob  again,  as  if  lungs 
were  cast  iron,  with  steel  works. 

'^Slumkey  for  ever!"  roared  the  honest  and  inde- 
pendent. 

''Slumkey  for  ever!"  echoed  Mr,  Pickwick,  taking 
off  his  hat. 

No  Fizkin  ! "  roared  the  crowd. 
Certainly  not,"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'^Hurrah!"    And  then  there  was  another  roaring, 
like  that  of  a  whole  menagerie  when  the  elephant  has 
rung  the  bell  for  the  cold  meat. 


Who  is  Slumkey  ? "  whispered  Mr.  Tupman. 
''I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  the  same 
tone.    ^^Hush.    Don't  ask  any  questions.    It's  always 
best  on  tliese  occasions  to  do  what  the  mob  do.'^ 

"  But  suppose  there  are  two  mobs,"  suggested  Mr.Snod- 
grass. 

Shout  with  the  largest,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Volumes  could  not  have  said  more. 

They  entered  the  house,  the  crowd  opening  right  and 
left  to  let  them  pass,  and  cheering  vociferously.  The 
first  object  of  consideration  was  to  secure  quarters  for 
the  night. 

''Can  we  have  beds  here  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
summoning  the  waiter.  * 

''Don't  know,  sir,"  replied  the  man  ;  "afraid  we're 
full,  sir — I'll  inquire,  sir."  Away  he  went  for  that  pur- 
pose, and  presently  returned  to  ask  whether  the  gentle- 
men were  "  Blue/' 


168  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

As.  neither  Mr.  Pickwick  nor  his  companions  took  any 
vital  interest  in  the  cause  of  either  candidate,  the  ques- 
tion was  a  rather  difficult  one  to  answer.  In  this  di- 
lemma Mr.  Pickwick  bethought  himself  of  his  new 
friend,  Mr.  Perker. 

Do  you  know  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Perker  ?" 
inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Certainly,  sir;  honourable  Mr.  Samuel  Slumkey's 
agent." 

''He  is  Blue,  I  think.'' 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir." 

"  Then  we  are  Blue,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  but  observ- 
ing that  the  man  looked  rather  doubtful  at  this  accom- 
modating announcement,  he  gave  him  his  card,  and  de- 
sired him  to  present  it  to  Mr.  Perker  forthwith,  if  he 
should  happen  to  be  in  the  house.  The  waiter  retired  ; 
and  re-appearing  almost  immediately  with  a  request 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  would  follow  him,  led  the  way  to  a 
large  room  on  the  first  floor,  where,  seated  at  a  long 
table  covered  with  books  and  papers,  was  Mr.  Perker. 

"  Ah — ah,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  advancing 
to  meet  him,  "  very  happy  to  see  you,  my  dear  sir,  very. 
Pray  sit  down.  So  you  have  carried  your  intention  into 
effect.  You  have  come  down  here  to  see  an  election — eh?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Spirited-contest,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rub- 
bing his  hands.  "  I  like  to  see  sturdy  patriotism,  on 
whatever  side  it  is  called  forth;  and  so  it's  a  spirited 
contest  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  little  man,  "  very  much  so  indeed. 
We  have  opened  all  the  public-houses  in  the  place,  and 
left  our  adversary  nothing  but  the  beer-shops — masterly 
stroke  of  policy  that,  my  dear  sir,  eh  ?" — and  the  little 
man  smiled  complacently,  and  took  a  large  pinch  of 
snuff. 

"  And  what  are  the  probabilities  as  to  the  result  of  the 
contest  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick.^ 

"Why,  doijbtful,  my  dear  sir;  rather  doubtful  as  yet," 
replied  the  little  man.  "  Fizkin's  people  have  got  three- 
and-thirty  voters  in  the  lock-up  coach-house  at  the 
White  Hart." 

"In  the  coach-house!"  said.  Mr.  Pickwick,  consider- 
ably astonished  by  this  second  stroke  of  ^policy. 


\ 


I 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  i69 

^^They  keep  'em  locked  up  there  till  they  want  'em/' 
resumed  the  little  man.  The  effect  of  that  is,  you  see, 
to  prevent  our  getting  at  them  ;  and  even  if  we  could,  it 
would  be  of  no  use,  for  they  keep  them  very  drunk  on 
purpose.  Smart  fellow  Fizkin's  agent — very  smart  fellow 
indeed." 

Mr.  Pickwick  stared,  but  said  nothing. 
We  are  pretty  confident,  though,"  said  Mr.  Perker, 
sinking  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper.  We  had  a  little 
tea-party  here,  last  night — five-and-forty  women,  my 
dear  sir — and  gave  every  one  of  'em  a  green  parasol 
when  she  went  away." 

A  parasol !  ''said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''  Fact,  my  dear  sir,  fact.  Five-and-forty  green  para- 
sols, at  seven  and  sixpence  apiece.  All  women  like 
finery — extraordinary  the  affect  of  thase  parasols. 
Secured  all  their  husbands,  and  half  their  brothers — 
beats  stockings,  and  flannel,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
hollow.  My  idea,  my  dear  sir,  entirely.  Hail,  rain  or 
sunshine,  you  can't  walk  half  a  dozen  yards  up  the 
street  without  encountering  half  a  dozen  green  para- 
sols." 

Here  the  little  man  indulged  in  a  convulsion  of  mirth, 
which  was  only  checked  by  the  entrance  of  a  third  party. 

This  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  sandy-coloured  head 
inclined  to  baldness,  and  aface  in  which  solemn  import- 
ance was  blended  with  a  look  of  unfathomable  -pro- 
fundity. He  was  dressed  in  a  long  brown  surtout,  with 
a  black  cloth  waistcoat,  and  drab  trousers.  A  double 
eye-glass  dangled  at  his  waistcoat  :  and  on  his  head  he 
wore  a  very  low-crowned  hat  with  a  broad  brim.  The 
new  comer  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Pickwick  as  Mr.  Pott, 
the  editor  of  Eatanswill  Gazette.  After  a  few  prelimi- 
nary remarks,  Mr.  Pott  turned  round  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  said,  with  solemnity — 

''This  contest  excites  great  interest  in  the  metropolis, 
sir?" 

"I  believe  it  does,  '  safd  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  which  I  have  reason  to  know,"  said  Pott,  looking 
towards  Mr.  Perker  for  corroboration — "  to  which  I 
have  reason  to  know  my  article  of  last  Saturday  in  some 
degree  contributed." 

"Not  the  least  doubt  of  that,"  said  the  little  man. 

"The  press  is  a  mighty  engine,  sir,"  said  Pott. 

I 


170  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

]Vir.  Pickwick  yielded  his  fullest  assent  to  the  proposi- 
tion. 

''But  I  trust,  sir/'  said  Pott,  "that  I  have  never  abused 
the  enormous  power  I  wield.  I  trust,  sir,  that  I  have 
never  pointed  the  noble  instrument  which  is  placed  in 
my  hands  against  the  sacred  bosom  of  private  life,  or 
the  tender  breast  of  individual  reputation ;  I  trust,  sir, 
that  I  have  devoted  my  energies  to — to  endeavours — 
humble  they  may  be,  humble  I  know  they  are — to  instill 
those  principles  of— which  are — " 

Here,  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  appearing 
to  ramble,  Mr.  Pickwick  came  to  his  relief,  and  said — 

''Certainly." 

"And  what,  sir,"  said  Pott — "What  sir,  let  me  ask 
you  as  an  impartial  man,  is  the  state  of  the  public  mind 
in  London  with  reference  to  my  contest  with  the  Inde- 
pendent ?" 

"  Greatly  excited,  no  doubt,"  interposed  Mr.  Perker, 
with  a  looK  of  slyness  which  was  very  likely  accidental. 

"  The  contest,"  said  Pott,  "  shall  be  prolonged  so  long 
as  I  have  health  and  strength,  and  that  portion  of  talent 
with  which  I  am  gifted.  From  that  contest,  sir,  although 
it  may  unsettle  men's  minds  and  excite  their  feelings, 
and  render  them  incapable  for  the  discharge  of  the 
every-day  duties  of  ordinary  life ;  from  that  contest, 
sir,  1  wjll  never  shrink  till  I  have  set  my  heel  upon  the 
Eatanswill  Independent.  I  wish  the  people  of  London, 
and  the  people  of  this  country,  to  know,  sir,  that  they 
may  rely  upon  me — ^that  I  will  not  desert  them — 
that  I  am  resolved  to  stand  by  them,  sir,  to  the  last." 

"Your conduct  is  most  noble,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick; 
and  he  grasped  the  hand  of  the  magnanimous  Pott. 

"  You  are,  sir,  I  perceive,  a  man  of  sense  and  talent," 
said  Mr.  Pott,  almost  breathless  with  the  vehemence  of 
his  patriotic  declaration.  "I  am  most  happy,  sir,  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  such  a  man." 

"  And  I,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  feel  deeply  honoured  by 
this  expression  of  your  opinion.  Allow  me,  sir,  to  intro- 
duce you  to  my  fellow-travellers,  the  other  correspoj^d- 
ing  members  of  the  club  I  am  proud  to  have  founded." 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

Mr.  Pickwick  withdrew,and  returning  with  his  friends, 
presented  them  in  due  form  to  the  editor  of  the  Eatans- 
will Gaaette. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


171 


''Now,  my  dear  Pott,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  ''the 
question  is,  what  are  we  to  do  with  our  friends  here?" 

"We  can  stop  in  this  house,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"Not  a  spare  bed  in  the  house,  my  dear  sk — not  a 
single  bed." 

"Extremely  awkward,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Very,"  said  his  fellow-voyagers. 

"I  have  an  idea  upon  this  subject,"  said  Mr.  Pott, 
' '  which  I  think  may  be  very  successfully  adopted.  They 
have  two  beds  at  the  Peacock,  and  I  can  boldly  say,  on 
behalf  of  Mrs.  Pott,  that  she  will  be  delighted  to  accom- 
modate Mr.  Pickwick  and  any  of  his  friends,  it  the  other 
two  gentlemen  and  their  servant  do  not  object  to  shift- 
ing, as  they  best  can,  at  the  Peacock." 

After  repeated  pressings  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Pott,  and 
repeated  protestations  on  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he 
could  not  think  of  incommoding  or  troubling  his  amiable 
wife,  it  was  decided  that  this  was  the  only  feasible 
arrangment  that  could  be  made.  So  it  teas  made;  and 
after  dining  together  at  the  Town  Arms,  the  friends 
separated,  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  repairing  to 
the  Peacock,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Winkle  proceed- 
ing to  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Pott;  it  having  been  pre- 
viously arranged  that  they  should  all  reassemble  at  the 
Town  Arms  in  the  morning,  and  accompany  the  hon- 
ourable Samuel  Slumkey's  procession  to  the  place  of 
nomination. 

Mr.  Pott's  domestic  circle  was  limited  to  himself  and 
his  wife.  All  men  whom  mighty  genius  has  raised  to 
a  proud  eminence  in  the  world  have  usually  some  little 
weakness  which  appears  the  more  conspicuous  from  the 
contrast  it  presents  to  their  general  character.  If  Mr. 
Pott  had  a  weakness,  it  was,  perhaps,  that  he  was  rather 
too  submissive  to  the  somewhat  contemptuous  control 
and  sway  of  his  wife.  We  do  not  feel  justified  in  laying 
any  particular  stress  upon  the  fact,  because  on  the 
present  occasion  all  Mrs.  Pott's  most  winning  waj^s 
were  brought  into  requisition  to  receive  the  two  gentle- 
men." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  "  Mr.  Pickwick— Mr.  Pick- 
wick of  London." 

Mrs.  Pott  received  Mr.  Pickwick's  paternal  grasp  of 
the  hand  with  enchanting  sweetness:  and  Mr.  Winkle, 


172  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


who  had  not  been  announced  at  all,  slided  and  bowed, 
unnoticed,  in  an  obscure  corner. 

'^P.,  my  dear."  said  Mrs.  Pott. 

''My  life,"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

''  Pray  introduce  the  other  gentleman." 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,"  said  Mr.  Pott.  ''  Permit 
me,  Mrs.  Pott,  Mr.—" 

"  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Winkle,"  echoed  Mr.  Pott,  and  the  ceremony  of 
introduction  was  complete. 

"We  owe  you  many  apologies,  ma'am,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  "for  disturbing  your  domestic  arrangements 
at  so  short  a  notice. " 

"I  beg  you  won't  mention  it,  sir,  "replied  the  feminine 
Pott,  with  vivacity.  "It  is  a  high  treat  to  me,  I  assure 
you,  to  see  any  new  faces;  living  as  I  do,  from  day  to 
day,  and  week  to  week,  in  this  dull  place,  and  seeing 
nobody." 

"Nobody,  my  dear!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pott,  archly. 

"Nobody  but  yoii,''  retorted  Mrs.  Pott,  with  asperity. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  host,  in  explanation 
of  his  wife's  lament,  "that  we  are  in  some  measure  cut 
off  from  many  enjoyments  and  pleasures  of  which  we 
might  otherwise  partake.  My  public  station,  as  editor 
of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  the  position  which  that  paper 
holds  in  the  country,  my  constant  immersion  in  the 
vortex  of  politics — " 

"P.,  my  dear,"  interposed  Mrs.  Pott. 

"My  life,"  said  the  editor. 

"  I  wish,  my  dear,  you  would  endeavour  to  find  some 
topic  of  conversation  in  which  these  gentleman  might 
take  some  rational  interest." 

"But,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  with  great  humility, 
"  Mr.  Pickwick  does  take  an  interest  in  it." 

"It's  v/ell  for  him  if  he  can,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  emphatic- 
ally. "  I  am  wearied  out  of  my  life  with  your  politics, 
and  quarrels  with  the  Independent,  and  nonsense.  I  am 
quite  astonished.  P.,  at  your  making  such  an  exhibition 
of  your  absurdity." 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  don't  talk  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Pott.  "  Do 
you  play  ecarte,  sir?" 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  learn,  under  your  tuition," 
replied  Mr.  Winkle. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


173 


Well,  then,  draw  that  little  table  into  this  window, 
and  let  me  get  out  of  hearing  of  those  prosy  politics." 

Jane,"  said  Mr.  Pott  to  the  servant  who  brought  in 
candles,  ^^go  down  into  the  office,  and  bring  me  up  the 
file  of  the  Gazette  for  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Twenty 
Eight.  I'll  just  read  you,"  added  the  editor,  turning  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I'll  just  read  you  a  few  of  the  leaders  I 
wrote  at  that  time,  upon  the  Buff  job  of  appointing  a 
new  tollman  to  the  turnpike  here;  I  rather  think  they'll 
amuse  you." 

I  should  like  to  hear  them  very  much,  indeed,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

Up  came  the  file,  and  down  sat  the  editor,  with  Mr. 
Pickwick  at  his  side. 

We  have  in  vain  pored  over  the  leaves  ^f  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's note-book,  in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  a  general 
summary  of  these  beautiful  compositions.  We  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  perfectly  enraptured 
with  the  vigour  and  freshness  of  the  style;  indeed,  Mr. 
Winkle  has  recorded  the  fact  that  his  eyes  were  closed, 
as  if  with  excess  of  pleasure,  during  the  whole  time  of 
their  perusal. 

The  announcement  of  supper  put  a  stop  both  to  the 
game  of  ecarte  and  the  recapitulation  of  the  beauties 
of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette.  Mrs.  Pott  was  in  the  high- 
est spirits  and  the  most  agreeable  humour.  Mr.  Winkle 
had  already  made  considerable  progress  in  her  good 
opinion,  and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  inform  him,  confi- 
dentially, that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  "  a  delightful  old 
dear."  These  terms  convey  a  familiarity  of  expression 
in  which  few  of  those  who  were  intimately  acquainted 
with  that  colossal-minded  man  would  have  presumed 
to  indulge.  We  have  preserved  them,  nevertheless,  as 
affording  at  once  a  touching  and  a  convincing  proof  of 
the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  every  class  of 
society,  and  the  ease  with  which  he  made  his  way  to 
their  hearts  and  feelings. 

It  was  a  late  hour  of  the  night — long  after  Mr.  Tiip- 
man  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  inniost 
recesses  of  the  Peacock — when  the  two  friends  retired 
to  rest.  Slumber  soon  fell  upon  the  senses  of  Mr. 
Winkle,  but  his  feelings  had  been  excited,  and  his  ad- 
miration roused;  and,  for  many  hours  after  sleep  had 
rendered  him  insensible  to  earthly  objects,  the  face  and 


174  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

figure  of  the  agreeable  Mrs.  Pott  presented  themselves 
again  and  again  to  his  wandering  imagination. 

The  noise  and  bustle  which  ushered  in  the  morning 
were  sufficient  to  dispel  from  the  mind  of  the  most 
romantic  visionary  in  existence  any  associations  but 
those  which  were  immediately  connected  with  the 
rapidly-approaching  election.  The  beating  of  drums, 
the  blowing  of  horns  and  trumpets,  the  shouting  of  men, 
and  tramping  of  horses,  echoed  and  re-echoed  through 
the  streets  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  day;  and  an 
occasional  fight  between  the  light  skirmishers  of  either 
party  at  once  enlivened  the  preparations,  and  agree- 
ably diversified  their  character. 

"  Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  his  valet  appeared 
at  his  bed-i^om  door,  just  as  he  was  concluding  his 
toilet;  ''all  alive  to-day,  I  suppose?" 

''Reg'lar  game,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  ''our people's 
a  col-lecting  down  at  the  Town  Arms,  and  they're  a  hol- 
lering themselves  hoarse  already." 

"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  do  they  seem  devoted  to 
their  party,  Sam?" 

"Never  see  such  dewotion  in  my  life,  sir." 

"  Energetic,  eh? "  said  Mr,  Pickwick. 
Uncommon,"  replied  Sam;  "I  never  see  men  eat 
and  drink  so  much  afore.    I  wonder  they  a'nt  afeer'd  o' 
bustin." 

"That's  the  mistaken  kindness  of  the  gentry  here," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Werry  likely,"  replied  Sam,  briefly. 

"Fine,  fresh,hearty  fellows  they  seem,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, glancing  from  the  window. 

"Werry  fresh,"  replied  Sam;  "me,  and  the  two  wai- 
ters at  the  Peacock,  has  been  a  pumpin'  over  the  inde- 
pendenTj  woters  as  supped  there  last  night." 

"Pumping  over  independent  voters! "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"Yes,"  said  his  attendant,  "every  man  slept  verehe  fell 
down;  we  dragged  'em  out,  one  by  one,  this  mornin  and 
put  'em  under  the  pump,  and  they're  in  ^eg'lar  fine  order 
now.  Shillin'  a  head  the  committee  paid  for  that  'ere  job." 

"  Can  such  things  be!"  exclaimed  the  astonished  Mr. 
Pickwick.  • 

"Lord  bless  your  heart,  sir,"  said  Sam;  "why  where 
was  you  half-baptized?— that's  nothin',  that  a'nt." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


1^5 


''Nothing?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Nothin'  at  all,  sir/'  replied  his  attendant.  The 
night  afore  the  last  day  o'  the  last  election  here  the  op- 

Eosite  party  bribed  the  bar-maid  at  the  Town  Arms  to 
ocus  the  brandy  and  water  of  fourteen  unpolled  electors 
•as  was  a  stoppin'  in  the  house." 

What  do  you  mean  by  '  hocussing '  brandy  and  wa- 


''Puttin'  laud'num  in  it,"  replied  Sam.  ''Blessed  if 
she  didn't  send  'em  all  to  sleep  till  twelve  hours  after  the 
election  was  over.  They  took  one  man  up  to  the  booth, 
in  a  truck,  fast  asleep,  by  way  of  experiment,  but  it  was 
no  go — they  wouldn't  poll  him;  so  they  brought  him 
back  and  put  him  to  bed  again." 

"Strange  practices,  these,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  half 
speaking  to  himself,  and  half  addressing  Sam. 

"  Not  half  so  strange  as  a  miraculous  circumstance  as 
happened  to  my  own  father,  at  an  election-time,  in  this 
werry  place,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"What  was  that?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"Why,  he  drove  a  coach  down  here  once,"  said  Sam; 
" '  Lection  time  came  on,  and  he  was  engaged  by  vun 

Earty  to  bring  down  woters  from  London.  Night  afore 
e  was  a-going  to  drive  up,  committee  on  t'other  side 
sends  for  him  quietly,  and  away  he  goes  vith  the  mes- 
senger, who  shows  him  in;  large  room — lots  of  gen'l'm'n 
— heaps  of  papers,  pens  and  ink,  and  all  that  'ere.  '  Ah, 
Mr.  Weller,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n  in  the  chair,  '  glad  to  see 
you,  sir;  h#w  are  you?'  'Werry  well,  thank'ee,  sir,' 
says  my  father; '  I  hope  you're  pretty  middlin','  says  he. 
'Pretty  well,  thank'ee,  sir,'  says  the  genll'm'n;  'sit 
down,  Mr.  Weller — pray  sit  down,  sir.'  So  my  father 
sits  down,  and  he  and  the  gen'l'm'n  looks  werry  hard  at 
each  other.  'You  don't  remember  me?' says  the  gen'l'- 
m'n. 'Can't  say  I  do,' says  my  father.  '  Oh,  I  know 
vou,'says  the  gen'l'm'n;  'knowed  you  wen  you  was  a 
boy,'  says  he.  '  Well,  I  don't  remember  you,'  says  my 
father.  '  That's  werry  odd,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n.  '  Werry,' 
says  mv  father.  '  You  must  have  a  bad  mem'ry,  Mr. 
Weller,^  says  the  gen'l'm'n.  'Well,  it  is  a  werry  bad 
'un,'  says  my  father.  '  I  thought  so,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n. 
So  then  they  pours  him  out  a  glass  of  wine,  and  gam- 
mons him  about  his  driving,  and  gets  him  into  a  reg'lar 
good  humour,  and  at  last  shoves  a  twenty  pound  note 


176  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

in  his  hand.  ^  It's  a  werry  bad  road  between  this  and 
London/  says  the  genTm'n.  '  Here  and  there  it  is  a 
heavy  road/  says  my  father.  '  Specially  near  the  canal, 
I  think/  says  the  genTni'n.  *  Nasty  bit,  that  'ere/  says 
my  father.  '  Well,  Mr.  Weller,^  says  the  gen'Fm'n, 
'  you're  a  werry  good  whip,  and  can  do  what  you  like 
with  your  horses,  we  know.  We're  all  werry  fond  o' 
you,  Mr.  Weller,  so  in  case  you  should  have  an  accident 
when  you're  a  bringing  these  here  woters  down,  and 
should  tip  'em  over  into  the  canal  without  hurtin'  of  'em, 
this  is  for  yourself,' says  he.  ^Gen'l'm'n,  you're  werry 
kind,'  says  my  father,  '  and  I'll  drink  your  health  in  an- 
other glass  of  wine,'  says  he;  wich  he  did,  and  then  but- 
tons up  the  money,  and  bows  himself  out,  You  wouldn't 
believe,  sir,"  continued  Sam,  with  a  look  of  inexpressible 
impudence  at  his  master,  "  that  on  the  werry  day  as  he 
came  down  with  them  woters,  his  coach  was  upset  on 
that  'ere  werry  spot,  and  ev'ry  man  on  'em  was  turned 
into  the  canal." 

''And  got  out  again?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

''Why,"  replied  Sam,  very  slowly,  "I  rather  think 
one  old  gen'l'm'n  was  missing';  I  know  his  hat  was 
found,  but  I  ain't  quite  certain  whether  his  head  was  in 
it  or  not.  But  what  I  look  at  is  the  hextraordinary  and 
wonderful  coincidence,  that  arter  what  that  gen'l'm'n 
said,  my  father's  coach  should  be  upset  in  that  werry 
place,  and  on  that  werry  day!" 

"  It  is  no  doubt  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance  in- 
deed,' said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "But  brush  my#hat,  Sam, 
for  I  hear  Mr.  Winkle  calling  me  to  breakfast." 

With  these  words  Mr.  Pickwick  descended  to  the  par- 
lour, where  Tie  found  breakfast  laid,  and  the  family  al- 
ready assembled.  The  meal  was  hastily  despatched; 
each  of  the  gentlemen's  hats  was  decorated  with  an 
enormous  blue  favour,  made  up  by  the  fair  hands  of 
Mrs.  Pott  herself;  and  as  Mr.  Wmkle  had  undertaken  to 
escort  that  lady  to  a  house  top,  in  the  immediate  vicin- 
ity of  the  hustings,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Pott  repaired 
alone  to  the  Town  Arms,  from  the  back  window  of 
which  one  of  Mr.  Slumkey's  committee  was  addressing 
six  small  boys  and  one  girl,  whom  he  dignified,  at  every 
second  sentence,  with  the  imposing  title  of  "men  of 
Eatanswill,"  whereat  the  six  small  boys  aforesaid 
cheered  prodigiously. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  177 

The  stable-yard  exhibited  unequivocal  symptoms  of 
the  glory  and  strength  of  the  Eatanswill  Blues.  There 
was  a  regular  army  of  blue  flags,  some  with  one  handle, 
and  some  with  two,  exhibiting  appropriate  devices,  in 
golden  characters  four  feet  high,  and  stout  in  propor- 
tion. There  was  a  grand  band  of  trumpets,  bassoons 
and  drums,  marshalled  four  abreast,  and  earning  their 
money,  if  ever  men  did,  especially  the  drum  beaters, 
who  were  very  muscular.  There  were  bodies  of  con- 
stables with  blue  staves,  twenty  committee-men  with 
blue  scarfs,  and  a  mob  of  voters  with  blue  cockades. 
There  were  electors  on  horseback,  and  electors  a-foot. 
There  was  an  open  carriage  and  four,  for  the  honour- 
able Samuel  Slumkey;  and  there  were  four  carriages 
and  pair,  for  his  friends  and  supporters  :  and  the  flags 
were  rustling,  and  the  band  was  playing,  and  the  con- 
stables were  swearing,  and  the  twenty  committee-men 
were  squabbling,  and  the  mob  were  shouting,  and  the 
horses  were  backing,  and  the  post-boys  perspiring;  and 
everybody,  and  everything,  then  and  there  assembled, 
was  for  the  special  use,  behoof,  honour,  and  renown  of 
the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  one 
of  the  candidates  for  the  representation  of  the  Borough 
of  Eatanswill  in  the  Commons  House  of  Parliament  of 
the  United  Kingdom. 

Loud  and  long  were  the  cheers,  and  mighty  was  the 
rustling  of  one  of  the  blue  flags,  with  Liberty  of  the 
Press  "  inscribed  thereon,  when  the  sandy  head  of  Mr. 
Pott  was  discerned  in  one  of  the  windows,  by  the  mob 
beneath;  and  tremendous  was  the  enthusiasm  when  the 
honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  himself,  in  top  boots,  and 
a  blue  neckerchief,  advanced  and  seized  the  hand  of 
the  said  Pott,  and  melodramatically  testifled  by  gestures 
to  the  crowd  his  ineffaceable  obligations  to  the  Eatans- 
will Gazette. 

Is  everything  ready  ?  "  said  the  honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey  to  Mr.  Perker. 

''Everything,  my  dear  sir,"  was  the  little  man's  re- 
ply- 

''Nothing  has  been  omitted,  I  hope  ?"  said  the  hon- 
ourable Samuel  Slumkey. 

"  Nothing  has  been  left  undone,  my  dear  sir — nothing 
whatever.  There  are  twenty  washed  men  at  the  street 
door  for  you  to  shake  hands  with:  and  six  cliildron  in 


1^8  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

arms  that  you^  are  to  pat  on  the  head,  and  inquire  the 
age  of;  be  particular  about  the  children,  my  dear  sir- 
it  has  alwp^ys  a  great  effect,  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  I'll  take  care,"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey. 
And,  perhaps,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  cautious  little 
man,  "  perhaps  if  you  could — I  don't  mean  to  say  it  is 
indispensable — but  if  you  could  manage  to  kiss  one  of 
'em,  it  would  produce  a  very  great  impression  on  the 
crowd." 

"  Wouldn't  it  have  as  good  an  effect  if  the  proposer  or 
seconder  did  that  ? "  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slum- 
key. 

^^Why,  I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't,"  replied  the  agent; 

if  it  were  done  by  yourself,  my  dear  sir,  I  think  it 
would  make  you  very  popular." 

Very  well,"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey, 
with  a  resigned  air,  'Hhen  it  must  be  done.  That's  all." 

"  Arrange  the  procession,"  cried  the  twenty  commit- 
tee-men. 

Amidst  the  cheers  of  the  assembled  throng,  the 
band,  and  the  constables,  and  the  committee-men,  and 
the  voters,  and  the  horsemen,  and  the  carriages,  took 
their  places — each  of  the  two-horse  vehicles  being  closely 
packed  with  as  many  gentlemen  as  could  manage  to 
stand  upright  in  it;  and  that  assigned  to  Mr.  Perker, 
containing  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
and  about  half  a  dozen  of  the  committee  besides. 

There  was  a  moment  of  awful  suspense  as  the  pro- 
cession waited  for  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  to 
step  into  his  carriage.  Suddenly  the  crowd  set  up  a 
great  cheering. 

''He  has  come  out,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  greatly 
excited  ;  the  more  so  as  their  position  did  not  enable 
them  to  see  what  was  going  forward. 

Another  cheer,  much  louder. 

"  He  has  shaken  hands  with  the  men,"  cried  the  little 
agent. 

Another  cheer,  far  more  vehement. 
He  has  patted  the  babies  on  the  head,"  said  Mr. 
Perker,  trembling  with  anxiety. 
A  roar  of  applause  that  rent  the  air. 
He  has  kissed  one  of  ^em  ! "  exclaimed  the  delighted 
little  man. 
A  second  roar. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


179 


He  has  kissed  another,"  gasped  the  excited  mana- 
ger. 
A  third  roar. 

''He's  kissing  'em  all!''  screamed  the  enthusiastic 
little  gentleman.  And,  hailed  by  the  deafening  shouts 
of  the  multitude,  the  procession  moved  on. 

How  or  by  what  means  it  became  mixed  up  with  the 
other  procession,  and  how  it  was  ever  extricated  from 
the  confusion  consequent  thereupon,  is  more  than  we 
can  undertake  to  describe,  inasmuch  as  Mr.  Pickwick's 
hat  was  knocked  over  his  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth,  by  one 
poke  of  a  Buff  flag-staff,  very  early  in  the  proceedings. 
He  describes  himself  as  being  surrounded  on  every  side, 
when  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  scene,  by  angry 
and  ferocious  countenances,  by  a  vast  cloud  of  dust,  and 
by  a  dense  crowd  of  combatants.  He  represents  him- 
self as  being  forced  from  the  carriage  by  some  unseen 
power,  and  being  personally  engaged  in  a  pugilistic  en- 
counter; but  with  whom,  or  how,  or  why,  he  is  wholly  un- 
able to  state.  He  then  felt  himself  forced  up  some  wooden 
steps  by  the  persons  from  behind;  and  on  removing 
his  hat,  found  himself  surrounded  by  his  friends,  in  the 
very  front  of  the  left  hand  side  of  the  hustings.  The 
right  was  reserved  for  the  Buff  party,  and  the  centre  for 
the  mayor  and  his  officers;  one  of  whom — the  fat  crier 
of  Eatanswill — was  ringing  an  enormous  bell,  by  way 
of  commanding  silence,  while  Mr.  Horatio  Fizkin,  and 
the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  with  their  hands  upon 
their  hearts,  were  bowing  with  the  utmost  affability  to 
the  troubled  sea  of  heads  that  inundated  the  open  space 
in  front;  and  from  whence  arose  a  storm  of  groans,  and 
shouts,  and  yells,  and  hootings,  that  would  have  done 
honour  to  an  earthquake. 

"  There's  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  pulling  his  friend 
by  the  sleeve. 

''Where?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  putting  on  his  specta- 
cles, which  he  had  fortunately  kept  in  his  pocket 
hitherto. 

"There,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  "on  the  top  of  that 
house."  And  there,  sure  enough,  in  the  leaden  gutter 
of  a  tiled  roof,  were  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mrs.  Pott,  comforta- 
bly seated  in  a  couple  of  chairs,  waving  their  handker- 
chiefs in  token  of  recognition — a  compliment  which  Mr. 
Pickwick  returned  by  kissing  his  hand  to  the  lady. 


180  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


The  proceedings  had  not  yet  commenced;  and  as  an 
inactive  crowd  is  generally  disposed  to  be  jocose,  this 
very  innocent  action  was  sufficient  to  awaken  their  f  ace- 
tiousness. 

''Oh,  you  wicked  old  rascal,"  cried  one  voice,  ''look- 
ing arter  the  girls,  are  you?  " 

"  Oh,  you  wenerable  sinner,"  cried  another. 

"Putting  on  his  spectacles  to  look  at  a  married 
'ooman!"  cried  a  third. 

"  I  see  him  a  winkin'  at  her,  with  his  wicked  old  eye," 
shouted  a  fourth. 

"Look  arter  your  wife.  Pott,"  bello^/ed  a  fifth— and 
then  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter. 

As  these  taunts  were  accompanied  with  invidious 
comparisons  between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  an  aged  ram, 
and  several  witicisms  of  the  like  nature;  and  as  they 
moreover  rather  tended  to  convey  reflections  upon  the 
honour  of  an  innocent  lady,  Mr.  Pickwick's  indignation 
was  excessive;  but  as  silence  was  proclaimed  at  the 
moment,  he  contented  himself  by  scorching  the  mob 
with  a  look  of  pity  for  their  misguided  minds,  at  which 
they  laughed  more  boisterously  than  ever. 

"  Silence! "  roared  the  mayor's  attendants. 

"Whiffin,  proclaim  silence,"  said  the  mayor,  with 
an  air  of  pomp  befitting  his  lofty  station.  In  obedience 
to  this  command  the  crier  performed  another  concerto 
on  the  bell,  whereupon  a  gentleman  in  the  crowd  called 
out  "muffins;  "  which  occasioned  another  laugh. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  mayor,  at  as  loud  a  pitch  as  he 
could  possibly  force  his  voice  to — "Gentlemen,  Brother 
electors  of  the  Borough  of  Eatanswill.  We  are  met 
here  to-day,  for  the  purpose  of  choosing  a  representative 
in  the  room  of  our  late — " 

Here  the  mayor  was  interrupted  by  a  voice  in  the 
crowd. 

"  Sec- cess  to  the  mayor!"  cried  the  •voice,  "and  may 
he  never  desert  the  nail  and  sarspan  business,  as  he  got 
his  money  by." 

This  allusion  to  the  professional  pursuits  of  the  orator 
was  received  with  a  storm  of  delight,  which,  with  a  bell 
accompaniment,  rendered  the  remainder  of  his  speech 
inaudible,  with  the  exception  of  the  concluding  sen- 
tence, in  which  he  thanked  the  meeting  for  the  patient 
attentio»  with  which  they  had  heard  him  throughout — 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


181 


an  expression  of  gratitude  which  elicited  another  burst 
of  mirth,  of  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  duration. 

Next,  a  tall,  thin  gentleman,  in  a  very  stiff  white 
neckerchief,  after  being  repeatedly  desired  by  the  crowd 
to  ''send  a  boy  home,  to  ask  whether  he  hadn't  left  his 
woice  under  the  pillow,"  begged  to  nominate  a  fit  and 
proper  person  to  represent  them  in  Parliament.  And 
when  he  said  it  was  Horatio  Fizkin,  -Esquire,  of  Fizkin 
Lodge,  near  Eatanswill,  the  Fizkinites  applauded,  and 
the  Slumkeyites  groaned,  so  long  and  so  loudly,  that 
both  he  and  the  seconder  might  have  sung  comic  songs 
in  lieu  of  speaking,  without  anybody's  being  a  bit  the 
wiser. 

The  friends  of  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  having  had 
their  innings,  a  little  choleric,  pink-faced  man  stood  for- 
ward to  propose  another  fit  and  proper  person  to  repre- 
sent the  electors  of  Eatanswill  in  Parliament;  and  very 
swimmingly  the  pink-faced  gentleman  would  have  got 
on,  if  he  had  not  been  rather  too  choleric  to  entertain  a 
sufficient  perception  of  the  fun  of  the  crowd.  But  after 
a  very  few  sentences  of  figurative  eloquence,  the  pink- 
faced  gentleman  got  from  denouncing  those  who  inter- 
rupted him  in  the  mob,  to  exchanging  defiances  with 
the  gentlemen  on  the  hustings;  vvT^hereupon  arose  an 
uproar  which  reduced  him  to  the  necessity  of  expressing 
his  feelings  by  serious  pantomime,  which  he  did,  and 
then  left  the  stage  to  his  seconder,  who  delivered  a  writ- 
ten speech  of  half  an  hour's  length,  and  wouldn't  be 
stopped,  because  he  had  sent  it  all  to  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette,  and  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  had  already  printed 
it,  every  word. 

Then  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  near 
Eatanswill,  presented  himself  for  the  purpose  of  address- 
ing the  electors;  which  he  no  sooner  did,  than  the  band 
employed  by  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  com- 
menced performing  with  a  power  to  which  their  strength 
in  the  morning  v/as  a  trifle;  in  return  for  which,  the 
Buff  crowd  belaboured  the  heads  and  shoulders  of  the 
Blue  crowd;  on  which  the  Blue  crowd  endeavoured  to 
dispossess  themselves  of  their  very  unpleasant  neigh- 
bours, the  Buff  crowd;  and  a  scene  of  struggling,  and 
pushing,  and  fighting,  succeeded,  to  which  we  can  no 
more  do  justice  than  the  mayor  could,  although  he  issued 
imperative  orders  to  twelve  constables  to  seize  the  ring- 


182  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

leaders,  who  might  amount  in  number  to  two  hundred 
and  fifty,  or  thereabouts.  At  all  these  encounters,  PIo- 
ratio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  and  his 
friends,  waxed  fierce  and  furious;  until  at  last  Horatio 
Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  begged  to  ask  his 
opponent,  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slum- 
key  Hall,  whether  that  band  played  by  his  consent; 
which  question  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  declin- 
ing to  answer,  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge, 
shook  his  fist  in  the  countenance  of  the  honourable 
Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall;  upon  which  the 
honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  his  blood  being  up,  defied 
Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  to  mortal  combat.*  At  this 
violation  of  all  known  rules  and  precedents  of  order, 
the  mayor  commanded  another  fantasia  on  the  bell,  and 
declared  that  he  would  bring  before  himself,  both  Horatio 
Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  and  the  honourable  Sam- 
uel Slumkey,  of  Slumkej^  Hall,  and  bind  them  over  to 
keep  the  peace.  Upon  this  terrific  enunciation,  the  sup- 
porters of  the  two  candidates  interfered,  and  after  the 
friends  of  each  party  had  quarrelled  in  pairs  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  touched 
his  hat  to  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey:  the  honour- 
able Samuel  Slumkey  touched  his  to  Horatio  Fizkin, 
Esq[uire:  the  band  was  stopped:  the  crowd  were  partially 
quieted:  and  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  was  permitted  to 
proceed. 

The  speeches  of  the  two  candidates,  though  differing 
in  every  other  respect,  afforded  a  beautiful  tribute  to 
the  merit  and  high  worth  of  the  electors  of  Eatanswill. 
Both  expressed  their  opinion  that  a  more  independent, 
a  more  enlightened,  a  more  public-spirited,  a  more  noble- 
minded,  a  more  disinterested  set  of  men  than  those  who 
had  promised  to  vote  for  him,  never  existed  on  earth; 
each  darkly  hinted  his  suspicions  that  the  electors  in  the 
opposite  interest  had  certain  swinish  and  besotted  in- 
firmities which  rendered  them  unfit  for  the  exercise  of 
the  important  duties  they  were  called  upon  to  discharge. 
Fizkin  expressed  his  readiness  to  do  anything  he  was 
wanted;  Slumkey,  his  determination  to  do  nothing  that 
was  asked  of  him.  Both  said  that  the  trade,  the  manu- 
factures, the  commerce,  the  prosperity,  of  Eatanswill, 
would  ever  be  dearer  to  their  hearts  than  any  earthly 
object;  and  each  had  it  in  his  power  to  state,  with  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


183 


utmost  confidence,  that  he  was  the  man  who  would 
eventually  be  returned. 

There  was  a  show  of  hands;  the  mayor  decided  in 
favour  of  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey 
HalL  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  de- 
manded a  poll,  and  a  poll  was  fixed  accordingly.  Then 
a  vote  of  thanks  was  moved  to  the  mayor  for  his  able 
conduct  in  the  chair;  and  the  mayor  devoutly  wishing 
that  he  had  had  a  chair  to  display  his  able  conduct  in 
(for  he  had  been  standing  during  the  whole  proceedings) 
returned  thanks.  The  processions  re-formed,  the  car- 
riages rolled  slowly  through  the  crowd,  and  its  members 
screeched  and  shouted  after  them  as  their  feelings  or 
caprice  dictated. 

During  the  whole  time  of  the  polling,  the  town  was  in 
a  perpetual  fever  of  excitement.  Everything  was  con- 
ducted on  the  most  liberal  and  delightful  scale.  Ex- 
cisable articles  were  remarkably  cheap  at  all  the  public- 
houses;  and  spring  vans  paraded  the  streets  for  the 
accommodation  of  voters  who  were  seized  with  any 
temporary  dizziness  in  the  head — an  epidemic  which 
prevailed  among  the  electors,  during  the  contest,  to  a 
most  alarming  extent,  and  under  the  influence  of  which 
they  might  frequently  be  seen  lying  on  the  pavements 
in  a  state  of  utter  insensibility.  A  small  body  of  electors 
remained  unpolled  on  the  very  last  day.  They  were 
calculating  and  reflecting  persons,  who  had  not  yet  been 
convinced  by  the  arguments  of  either  party,  although 
they  had  had  frequent  conferences  with  each.  One  hour 
before  the  close  or  the  poll,  Mr.  Perker  solicited  the  honour 
of  a  private  interview  with  these  intelligent,  these  noble, 
these  patriotic  men.  It  was  granted.  His  arguments 
were  Ibrief,  but  satisfactory.  They  went  in  a  body  to 
the  poll;  and  when  they  returned,  the  honorable  Samuel 
Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  was  returned  also. 


184  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

COMPRISING  A  BRIEF  DESCRIPTION   OF  THE  COMPANY  AT 
THE  PEACOCK  ASSEMBLED;  AND  A  TALE 
TOLD   BY   A  BAGMAN. 

It  is  pleasant  to  turn  from  contemplating  the  strife 
and  turmoil  of  political  existence  to  the  peaceful  repose . 
of  private  life.  Although  in  reality  no  great  partisan 
of  either  side,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  sufficiently  fired  with 
Mr.  Pott's  enthusiasm  to  apply  his  whole  time  and  at- 
tention to  the  proceedings,  of  which  the  last  chapter 
affords  a  description  compiled  from  his  own  memoranda. 
Nor  while  he  was  thus  occupied  was  Mr.  Winkle  idle, 
his  whole  time  being  devoted  to  pleasant  walks  and 
short  country  excursions  with  Mrs.  Pott,  who  never 
failed,  when  such  an  opportunity  presented  itself,  to 
seek  some  relief  from  the  tedious  monotony  she  so  con- 
stantly complained  of.  The  two  gentlemen  being  thus 
completely  domesticated  in  the  editor's  house,  Mr.  Tup- 
man  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  were  in  a  great  measure  cast 
upon  their  own  resources.  Taking  but  little  interest  in 
public  affairs,  they  beguiled  their  time  chiefly  with  such 
amusements  as  the  Peacock  afforded, which  were  limited 
to  a  bagatelle-board  in  the  first  floor,  and  a  sequestered 
skittle-ground  in  the  back  yard.  In  the  science  and 
nicety  of  both  these  recreations,  which  are  far  more 
abstruse  than  ordinary  men  suppose, they  were  gradually 
initiated  by  Mr.  Weller,  who  possessed  a  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  such  pastimes.  Thus,  notwithstanding  that 
they  were  in  a  great  measure  deprived  of  the  comfort  and 
advantage  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  society,  they  were  still 
enabled  to  beguile  the  time,  and  to  prevent  its  hanging 
heavily  on  their  hands. 

It  was  in  the  evening,  however,  that  the  Peacock  pre- 
sented attractions  which  enabled  the  two  friends  to 
resist  even  the  invitations  of  the  gifted,  though  prosy, 
Pott.  It  was  in  the  evening  that  the  ^'commercial 
room "  was  filled  with  a  social  circle,  whose  characters 
and  manners  it  was  the  delight  of  Mr.  Tupman  to  ob- 
serve ;  whose  sayings  and  doings  it  was  the  habit  of  Mr, 
Snodgrass  to  note  dov/n. 


) 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


185 


Most  people  know  what  sort  of  places  commercial 
rooms  usually  are.  That  of  the  Peacock  differed  in  no 
material  respect  from  the  generality  of  such  apartments: 
that  is  to  say,  it  was  a  large,  bare-looking  room,  the  fur- 
niture of  which  had  no  doubt  been  better  when  it  was 
newer,  with  a  spacious  table  in  the  centre,  and  a  variety 
of  smaller  dittos  in  the  corners:  an  extensive  assortment 
of  variously  shaped  chairs,  and  an  old  Turkey  carpet, 
bearing  about  the  same  relative  proportion  to  the  size  of 
the  room  as  a  lady's  pocket-handkerchief  might  to  the 
floor  of  a  watch-box.  The  walls  were  garnished  with 
one  or  two  large  maps;  and  several  weather-beaten 
rough  great  coats,  with  complicated  capes,  dangled  from 
a  long  row  of  pegs  in  one  corner.  "  The  mantel-shelf  was 
ornamented  with  a  wooden  inkstand,  containing  one 
stump  of  a  pen  and  half  a  wafer:  a  road-book  and  direc- 
tory: a  county  history,  minus  the  cover:  and  the  mortal 
remains  of  a  trout  in  a  glass  coffin.  The  atmosphere 
was  redolent  of  tobacco-smoke,  the  fumes  of  which  had 
communicated  a  rather  dingy  hue  to  the  whole  room,  and 
more  especially  to  the  dusty  red  curtains  which  shaded  the 
windows.  On  the  sideboard,  a  variety  of  miscellaneous 
articles  were  huddled  together,  the  most  conspicuous  of 
which  were  some  very  cloudy  fish-sauce  cruets,  a  couple 
of  driving-boxes,  two  or  three  whips,  and  as  many 
travelling  shawls,  a  tray  of  knives  and  forks,  and  the 
mustard. 

Here  it  was  that  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  were 
seated  on  the  evening  after  the  conclusion  of  the  elec- 
tion, with  several  other  temporary  inmates  of  the  house, 
smoking  and  drinking. 

''Well,  gents,"  said  a  stout,  hale  personage  of  about 
forty,  with  only  one  eye — a  very  bright  black  eye,  which 
twinkled  with  a  rougish  expression  of  fun  and  good 
humour;  ''our  noble  selves,  gents.  I  always  propose 
that  toast  to  the  company,  and  drink  Mary  to  myself. 
Eh,  Mary!" 

"Get  along  with  you,  you  wretch."  said  the  hand- 
maiden, obviously  not  ill-pleased  with  the  compliment, 
however. 

"  Don't  go  away,  Mary,"  said  the  black-pyed  man. 
"  Let  me  alone,  imperence,"  said  the  young  lady. 
"Never  mind,"  said  the  one-eyed  man,  calling  after 
the  girl  as  she  left  the  room;  "  PU  step  out  by  and  by, 


186  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Mary.  Keep  your  spirits  up,  dear."  Here  he  went 
through  the  not  very  difficult  process  of  winking  upon 
the  company  with  his  solitary  eye,  to  the  enthusiastic 
delight  of  an  elderly  personage  with  a  dirty  face  and  a 
•    clay  pipe. 

''Rum  creeturs  is  women,"  said  the  dirty-faced  man, 
after  a  pause. 

''Ah,  no  mistake  about  that,"  said  a  very  red-faced 
man,  behind  a  cigar. 

After  this  little  bit  of  philosophy,  there  was  another 
pause. 

"  There's  rummer  things  than  women  in  this  world, 
though,  mind  you,"  said  the  man  with  the  black  eye, 
slowly  filling  a  large  Dutch  pipe,  with  a  most  capacious 
bowl. 

^' Are  you  married?"  inquired  the  dirty-faced  man. 
"Can't  say  I  am." 

"I  thought  not."  Here  the  dirty-faced  man  fell  into 
ecstacies  of  mirth  at  his  own  retort,  in  which  he  was 
joined  by  a  man  of  bland  voice  and  placid  countenan€e, 
who  always  made  it  a  point  to  agree  with  everybody. 

"Women,  after  all,  gentlemen,"  said  the  enthusiastic 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  "are  the  great  props  and  comforts  of 
our  existence." 

"  So  they  are,"  said  the  placid  gentleman. 

"When  they're  in  a  good  humour,"  interposed  the 
dirty-faced  man. 

"  And  that's  very  true,"  said  the  placid  one. 

"  I  repudiate  that  qualification,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
whose  thoughts  were  fast  reverting  to  Emily  War  die. 
' '  I  repudiate  it  with  disdain — with  indignation.  Show  me 
the  man  who  says  anything  against  women,  as  women, 
and  I  boldly  declare  he  is  not  a  man."  And  Mr.  Snodgrass 
took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  and  struck  the  table  vio- 
lently with  his  clenched  fist. 

"  That's  good  sound  argument,"  said  the  placid  man. 

"  Containing  a  position  which  I  deny,"  interrupted  he 
of  the  dirty  countenance. 

"  And  there's  certainly  a  very  great  deal  of  truth  in 
what  you  observe,  too,  sir,"  said  the  placid  gentleman. 

"Your  health,  sir,"  said  the  bagman  with  the  lonely 
eye,  bestowing  an  approving  nod  on  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  acknowledged  the  compliment. 

"  I  always  like  to  hear  a  good  argument,"  continued 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


187 


the  bagman,  ^^a  sharp  one  like  this;  it's  very  improving: 
but  this  little  argument  about  women  brought  to  my 
mind  a  story  I  have  heard  an  old  uncle  of  mine  tell,  the 
recollection  of  which,  just  now,  made  me  say  there  were 
rummer  things  than  women  to  be  met  with  sometimes." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  that  same  story,"  said  the  red- 
faced  man  with  the  cigar. 

"  Should  you?"  was  the  only  reply  of  the  bagman,  who 
continued  to  smoke  with  great  vehemence. 

''So  should  I,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  speaking  for  the  first 
time.  He  was  always  anxious  to  increase  his  stock  of 
experience. 

'•'Should  you?  Well,  then,  111  tell  it.  No,  I  won't. 
I  know  you  won't  believe  it,"  said  the  man  with  the 
roguish  eye,  making  that  organ  look  more  roguish  than 
ever. 

"If  you  say  it's  true,  of  course  I  shall,"  said  Mr. 
Tupman. 

"Well,  upon  that  understanding,  I'll  tell  it,"  replied 
the  traveller.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  great  commer- 
cial house  of  Bilson  and  Slum?  But  it  doesn't  matter, 
though,  whether  you  did  or  not,  because  they  retired 
from  business  long  since.  It's  eighty  years  ago  since 
the  circumstance  happened  to  a  traveller  to  that  house, 
but  he  was  a  particular  friend  of  my  uncle's;  and  my 
uncle  told  the  story  to  me.  It's  a  queer  name;  but  he 
used  to  call  it 

THE  bagman's  story, 

and  he  used  to  tell  it  something  in  this  way: 

"  One  winter's  evening,  about  five  o'clock,  just  as  it 
began  to  grow  dusk,  a  man  in  a  gig  might  have  been 
seen  urging  his  tired  horse  along  the  road  which  leads 
across  Marlborough  Downs,  in  the  direction  of  Bristol. 
I  say  he  might  have  been  seen,  and  I  have  no  doubt  ho 
would  have  been,  if  anybody  but  a  blind  man  had  hap- 
pened to  pass  that  way;  but  the  weather  was  so  bad, 
and  the  night  so  cold  and  wet,  that  nothing  was  out  but 
the  water,  and  so  the  travelier  jogged  along  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road,  lonesome  and  dreary  enough.  If  any 
bagman  of  that  day  could  have  caught  sight  of  the  little 
neck-or-nothinff  sort  of  gig,  with  a  clay-coloured  body 
and  red  wheels,  and  the  vixenish,  ill-tempered,  faat- 


188  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


going  bay  mare,  that  looked  like  a  cross  between  a 
butcher's  horse  and  a  twopenny  post-office  pony,  he 
would  have  known  at  once  that  this  traveller  could  have 
been  no  other  than  Tom  Smart,  of  the  great  house  of 
Bilson  and  Slum,  Cateaton  Street,  City.  However,  as 
there  was  no  bagman  to  look  on,  nobody  knew  anything 
at  all  about  the  matter;  and  so  Tom  Smart  and  his  clay- 
coloured  gig  with  the  red  wheels,  and  the  vixenish  marc 
with  the  fast  pace,  went  on  together,  keeping  the  secret 
among  them;  and  nobody  was  a  bit  the  wiser. 

"  There  are  many  pleasanter  places  even  in  this 
dreary  world  than  Marlborough  Downs  when  it  blows 
hard;  and  if  you  throw  in,  besides,  a  gloomy  winter's 
evening,  a  miry  and  sloppy  road,  and  a  pelting  fall  of 
heavy  rain,  and  try  the  effect,  by  way  of  experiment, 
in  your  own  proper  person,  you  will  experience  the  full 
force  of  this  observation. 

The  wind  blew — not  up  the  road  or  down  it,  though 
that's  bad  enough,  but  sheer  across  it,  sending  the  rain 
slanting  down  like  the  lines  they  used  to  rule  in  the 
copy-books  at  school,  to  make  the  boys  slope  well.  For 
a  moment  it  would  die  away,  and  the  traveller  would 
begin  to  delude  himself  into  the  belief  that,  exhausted 
with  its  previous  fury,  it  had  quietly  laid  itself  down  to 
rest,  when  whoo!  ho  would  hear  it  growling  and  whist- 
ling in  the  distance,  and  on  it  would  come  rushing  over 
the  hill-tops,  and  sweeping  along  the  plain,  gathering 
sound  and  strength  as  it  drew  nearer,  until  it  dashed 
with  a  heavy  gust  against  horse  and  man,  driving  the 
sharp  rain  into  their  ears,  and  its  cold,  damp  breath  into 
their  very  bones;  and  past  them  it  would  scour,  far,  far 
away,  with  a  stunning  roar,  as  if  in  ridicule  of  their 
weakness,  and  triumphant  in  the  consciousness  of  its 
own  strength  and  power. 

The  bay  mare  splashed  away,  through  the  mud  and 
water,  with  drooping  ears  :  now  and  then  tossing  her 
head  as  if  to  express  her  disgust  at  this  very  ungentle- 
manly  behaviour  of  the  elements,  but  keeping  a  good 
pace  notwithstanding,  until  a  gust  of  wind,  more  furious 
than  any  that  had  yet  assailgd  them,  caused  her  to  stop 
suddenly,  and  plant  her  four  feet  firmly  against  the 
ground,  to  prevent  her  being  blown  over.  It's  a  special 
mercy  that  she  did  this,  for  if  she  had  been  blown  over, 
the  vixenish  mare  was  so  light,  and  the  gig  was  so  light, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


189 


and  Tom  Smart  such  a  light  weight  into  the  bar- 
gain, that  they  must  infallibly  have  all  gone  rolling  over 
and  over  together,  until  they  reached  the  confines  of 
earth,  or  until  the  wind  fell;  and  in  either  case  the 
probability  is,  that  neither  the  vixenish  mare,  nor  the 
the  clay-coloured  ~gig  with  the  red  wheels,  nor  Tom 
Smart  would  ever  have  been  fit  for  service  again. 

"  ^  Well,  damn  my  straps  and  whiskers,'  says  Tom 
Smart  (Tom  sometimes  had  an  unpleasant  knack  of 
swearing),  '  Damn  my  straps  and  whiskers,'  says  Tom, 
'  if  this  ain't  pleasant,  blow  me! ' 

You'll  very  likely  ask  me  why,  as  Tom  Smart  had 
been  pretty  well  blown  already,  he  expressed  this  wish 
to  be  submitted  to  the  same  process  again.  I  can't  say 
— all  I  know  is  that  Tom  Smart  said  so — or  at  least  he 
always  told  my  uncle  he  said  so,  and  it's  just  the  same 
thing. 

"  'Blow  me,'  says  Tom  Smart;  and  the  mare  neighed 
as  if  she  were  precisely  of  the  same  opinion. 

'  Cheer  up,  old  girl,'  said  Tom,  patting  the  bay  mare 
on  the  neck  with  the  end  of  his  whip.  'It  won't  do 
pushing  on  such  a  night  as  this;  the  first  house  we  come 
to  we'll  put  up  at,  so  the  faster  you  go  the  sooner  it's 
over.    Soho,  old  girl — gently — gently.' 

''Whether  the  vixenish  mare  was  sufficiently  well 
acquainted  with  the  tones  of  Tom's  voice  to  comprehend 
his  meaning,  or  whether  she  found  it  colder  standing 
still  than  moving  on,  of  course  I  can't  say.  But  I  can 
say  that  Tom  had  no  sooner  finished  speaking  than  she 
pricked  up  her  ears  and  started  forward  at  a  speed 
which  made  the  clay-coloured  gig  rattle  till  you  would 
have  supposed  every  one  of  the  red  spokes  was  going  to 
fly  out  on  the  turf  of  Marlborough  Downs;  and  even 
Tom,  whip  as  he  was,  couldn't  stop  or  check  her  pace 
until  she  drew  up,  of  her  own  accord,  before  a  road-side 
inn  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  way,  about  half  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  from  the  end  of  the  Downs. 

"Tom  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  the  upper  part  of  the 
house  as  he  threw  the  reins  to  the  hostler,  and  stuck  the 
whip  in  the  box.  It  was  a  strange  old  place,  built  of  a 
kind  of  shingle,  inlaid,  as  it  were,  with  cross-beams, 
with  gable-topped  windows  projecting  completely  over 
the  pathway,  and  a  low  door  with  a  dark  porch,  and  a 
couple  of  steep  steps  leading  down  into  the  house,  in- 


190  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


stead  of  the  modern  fashion  of  half-a-dozen  shallow 
ones,  leading  up  to  it.    It  was  a  comfortable-looking 

Elace  though,  for  there  was  a  strong,  cheerful  light  in  the 
ar- window,  which  shed  a  bright  ray  across  the  road, 
and  even  lighted  up  the  hedge  on  the  other  side;  and 
there  was  a  red  flickering  light  in  the  opposite  window, 
one  moment  but  faintly  discernible,  and  the  next  gleam- 
ing strongly  through  the  drawn  curtains,  which  inti- 
mated that  a  rousing  fire  was  blazing  within.  Marking 
these  little  evidences  with  the  eye  of  an  experienced 
traveller,  Tom  dismounted  with  as  much  agility  as  his 
half-frozen  limbs  would  permit,  and  entered  the  house. 

''In  less  than  five  minutes'  time  Tom  was  ensconced 
in  the  room  opposite  the  bar — the  very  room  where  he 
had  imagined  the  fire  blazing — before  a  substantial  mat- 
ter-of-fact roaring  fire,  composed  of  something  short  of 
a  bushel  of  coals,  and  wood  enough  to  make  half  a  dozen 
decent  gooseberry-bushes,  piled  half  way  up  the  chim- 
ney, and  roaring  and  crackling  with  a  sound  that  of 
itself  would  have  warmed  tRe  heart  of  any  reasonable 
man.  This  was  comfortable,  but  this  was  not  all,  for  a 
smartly  dressed  girl  with  a  bright  eye  and  a  neat  ankle, 
was  laying  a  very  clean  white  cloth  on  the  table;  and  as 
Tom  sat  with  his  slippered  feet  on  the  fender,  and  his 
back  to  the  open  door,  he  saw  a  charming  prospect  of 
the  bar  refiected  in  the  glass  over  the  chimney-piece, 
with  delightful  rows  of  green  bottles  and  gold  labels, 
together  with  jars  of  pickles  and  preserves,  and  cheese 
and  boiled  hams,  and  rounds  of  beef,  arranged  on 
shelves  in  the  most  tempting  and  delicious  array.  Well, 
this  was  comfortable  too;  hut  even  this  was  not  all — for 
in  the  bar,  seated  at  tea  at  the  nicest  possible  little 
table,  drawn  close  up  to  the  brightest  possible  little  fire, 
was  a  buxom  widow  of  somewhere  about  eight  and 
forty  or  thereabouts,  with  a  face  as  comfortable  as  the 
bar,  who  was  evidently  the  landlady  of  the  house,  and 
the  supreme  ruler  over  all  these  agreeable  possessions. 
There  was  only  one  drawback  to  the  beauty  of  the  whole 
picture,  and  that  was  a  tall  man — a  very  tall  man — in  a 
brown  coat  and  bright  basket  buttons,  and  black  whis- 
kers, and  wavy  black  hair,  who  was  seated  at  tea  with 
the  widow,  and  who  it  required  no  great  penetration  to 
discover  was  in  a  fair  way  of  persuading  her  to  be  a 
widow  no  longer,  but  to  confer  upon  him  the  privilege  of 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


191 


sitting  down  in  that  bar,  for  and  during  the  whole  re- 
mainder of  the  term  of  his  natural  life. 

'*Tom  Smart  was  by  no  means  of  an  irritable  or 
envious  disposition,  but  somehow  or  other  the  tall  man 
with  the  brown  coat  and  the  bright  basket  buttons  did 
rouse  what  little  gall  he  had  in  his  composition, 
and  did  make  him  feel  extremely  indignant:  the  more 
especially  as  he  could  now  and  then  observe,  from  his 
seat  before  the  glass,  certain  little  affectionate  famil- 
iarities passing  between  the  tall  man  and  the  widow, 
which  sufficiently  denoted  that  the  tall  man  was  as 
high  in  favour  as  he  was  in  size.  Tom  was  fond  of  hot 
punch — I  may  venture  to  say  he  was  very  fond  of  hot 
punch — and  after  he  had  seen  the  vixenish  mare  well 
fed  and  well  littered  down,  and  had  eaten  every  bit  of 
the  nice  little  hot  dinner  which  the  widow  tossed  up  for 
him  with  her  own  hands,  he  just  ordered  a  tumbler  of 
it,  by  way  of  experiment.  Now,  if  there  was  one  thing 
in  the  whole  range  of  domestic  art,  which  the  widow 
could  manufacture  better  than  another,  it  was  this  iden- 
tical article;  and  the  first  tumbler  was  adapted  to  Tom 
Smart's  taste  with  such  peculiar  nicety,  that  he  ordered 
a  second  with  the  least  possible  delay.  Hot  punch  is  a 
pleasant  thing,  gentlemen — an  extremely  pleasant  thing 
under  any  circumstances — but  in  that  snug  old  parlour, 
before  the  roaring  fire,  with  the  wind  blowing  outside 
till  every  timber  in  the  old  house  creaked  again,  Tom 
Smart  found  it  perfectly  delightful.  He  ordered  another 
tumbler,  and  then  another — I  am  not  quite  certain 
whether  he  didn't  order  another  after  that — but  the 
more  he  drank  of  the  hot  punch,  the  more  he  thought  of 
the  tall  man. 

'•'Confound  his  impudence!'  said  Tom  to  himself, 
'  what  business  has  he  in  that  snug  bar  ?  Such  an  ugly 
villain  too  ! '  said  Tom.  '  If  the  widow  had  any  taste, 
she  might  surely  pick  up  some  better  fellow  than  that.' 
Here  Tom's  eye  wandered  from  the  glass  on  the  chimney- 
piece,  to  the  glass  on  the  table;  and  as  he  felt  himself 
becoming  gradually  sentimental,  lie  emptied  the  fourth 
tumbler  of  punch,  and  ordered  a  fifth. 

''Tom  Smart,  gentlemen,  had  always  been  verynmcli 
attached  to  the  public  line.  It  had  long  been  his  ambi- 
tion to  stand  in  a  bar  of  his  own,  in  a  green  coat,  knee- 
cords,  and  tops.    He  had  a  great  notion  of  taking  the 


192  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


chair  at  convivial  dinners,  and  he  had  often  thought  how 
well  he  could  preside  in  a  room  of  his  own  in  the  talking 
way,  and  what  a  capital  example  he  could  set  to  his 
customers  in  the  drinking  department.  All  these  things 
passed  rapidly  through  Tom's  mind  as  he  sat  drinking 
the  hot  punch  by  the  roaring  fire,  and  he  felt  very  justly 
%  and  properly  indignant  that  the  tall  man  should  be  in  a 
fair  way  of  keeping  such  an  excellent  house,  while  he, 
Tom  Smart,  was  as  far  off  from  it  as  ever.  So,  after  de- 
liberating over  the  two  last  tumblers,  whether  he  hadn't 
a  perfect  right  to  pick  a  (j[uarrel  with  the  tall  man  for 
having  contrived  to  get  into  the  good  graces  of  the 
buxom  widow,  Tom  Smart  at  last  arrived  at  the  satisfac- 
tory conclusion  that  he  was  a  very  ill-used  and  persecuted 
individual,  and  had  better  go  to  bed. 

^*^Up  a  wide  and  ancient  staircase  the  smart  girl  pre- 
ceded Tom,  shading  the  chamber  candle  with  her  hand, 
to  protect  it  from  the  currents  of  air  which  in  such  a 
rambling  old  place  might  have  found  plenty  of  room  to 
disport  themselves  in,  without  blowing  the  candle  out, 
but  which  did  blow  it  out  nevertheless;  thus  affording 
Tom's  enemies  an  opportunity  of  asserting  that  it  was 
he,  and  not  the  wind,  who  extinguished  the  candle,  and 
that  while  he  pretended  to  be  blowing  it  alight  again,  he 
was  in  fact  kissing  the  girl.  Be  this  as  it  may,  another 
light  was  obtained,  and  Tom  was  conducted  through  a 
maze  of  rooms,  and  a  labyrinth  of  passages,  to  the 
apartment  which  had  been  prepared  for  his  reception, 
where  the  girl  bade  him  good  night,  and  left  him  alone. 

It  was  a  good  large  room  with  big  closets,  and  a  bed 
which  might  have  served  for  a  whole  boarding  school, 
to  say  nothing  of  a  couple  of  oaken  presses  that  would 
have  held  the  baggage  of  a  small  army;  but  what  struck 
Tom's  fancy  most  was  a  strange,  grim-looking,  high- 
backed  chair,  carved  in  the  most  fantastic  manner,  with 
a  flowered  damask  cushion,  and  the  round  knobs  at  the 
bottom  of  the  legs  carefully  tied  up  in  red  cloth,  as  if  it 
had  got  the  gout  in  its  toes.  Of  any  other  queer  chair, 
Tom  would  only  have  thought  it  was  a  queer  chair,  and 
there  would  have  been  an  end  of  the  matter:  but  there 
was  something  about  this  particular  chair,  and  yet  he 
couldn't  tell  what  it  was,  so  odd  and  so  unlike  any  other 
piece  of  furniture  he  had  ever  seen,  that  it  seemed  to 
fascinate  him.    He  sat  down  be^^re  the  fire,  and  stared 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


193 


at  the  old  chair  for  half  an  hour;  deuce  take  the  chair, 
it  was  such  a  strange  old  thing,  he  couldn't  take  his  eyes 
off  it. 

"'Well/  said  Tom,  slowly  undressing  himself,  and 
staring  at  the  old  chair  all  the  while,  which  stood  with 
a.  mysterious  aspect  by  the  bedside,  '  I  never  saw  such  a 
rum  concern  as  that  in  my  days.  Very  odd,'  said  Tom, 
who  had  got  rather  sage  with  the  hot  punch,  '  very  odd.' 
Tom  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  profound  wisdom, 
and  looked  at  the  chair  again.  He  couldn't  make  any- 
thing of  it,  though;  so  he  got  into  bed,  covered  himself 
up  warm,  and  fell  asleep. 

"  In  about  half  an  hour  Tom  woke  up,  with  a  start, 
from  a  confused  dream  of  tall  men  and  tumblers  of 
punch:  and  the  first  object  that  presented  itself  to  his 
waking  imagination  was  the  queer  chair. 

"  'I  won't  look  at  it  any  more,'  said  Tom  to  himself, 
and  he  squeezed  his  eyelids  together,  and  tried  to  per- 
suade himself  he  was  going  to  sleep  again.  No  use; 
nothing  but  queer  chairs  danced  before  his  eyes,  kicking 
up  their  legs,  jumping  over  each  other's  backs,  and  play- 
ing all  kinds  of  antics. 

'"  'I  may  as  well  see  one  real  chair,  as  two  or  three 
complete  sets  of  false  ones,'  said  Tom,  bringing  out  his 
head  from  under  the  bed-clothes.  There  it  was,  plainly 
discernible  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  looking  as  provok- 
ing as  ever. 

Tom  gazed  at  the  chair;  and  suddenly,  as  he  looked 
at  it,  a  most  extraordinary  change  seemed  to  come  over 
it.  The  carving  of  the  back  gradually  assumed  the  lin- 
eaments and  expression  of  an  old,  shrivelled  human 
face;  the  damask  cushion  became  an  antique,  flapped 
waistcoat,  the  round  knobs  grew  into  a  couple  of  feet, 
encased  in  red-cloth  slippers,  and  the  whole  chair  looked 
like  a  very  ugly  old  man,  of  the  previous  century,  with 
his  arms  a-kimbo.  Tom  sat  up  m  bed,  and  rubbed  his 
eyes  to  dispel  the  illusion.  No.  The  chair  was  an  ugly 
old  gentleman;  and  what  was  more,  he  was  winking  at 
Tom  Smart. 

"  Tom  was  naturally  a  headlong,  careless  sort  of  a  dog, 
and  he  had  had  five  tumblers  of  hot  punch  into  the  bar- 
gain; so,  although  he  was  a  little  startled  at  first,  he  be- 
gan to  grow  rather  indignant  when  he  saw  the  old  gen- 
tleman winking  and  leering  at  him  with  such  an  impu- 


194  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


dent  air.  At  length  he  resolved  that  he  wouldn't  stand 
it;  and  as  the  old  face  kept  winking  away  as  fast  as 
ever,  Tom  said,  in  a  very  angry  tone: 

"  '  What  the  devil  are  you  winking  at  me  for? ' 
'Because  I  like  it,  Tom  Smart,'  said  the  chair;  or  the 
old  gentleman,  whichever  you  like  to  call  him.  He 
stopped  winking,  though,  when  Tom  spoke,  and  began 
grinning  like  a  superannuated  monkey. 

" '  How  do  you  know  my  name,  old  nut-cracker  face!' 
inquired  Tom  Smart,  rather  staggered — though  he  pre- 
tended to  carry  it  off  so  well. 

'  Come,  come  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'that's 
not  the  way  to  address  solid  Spanish  Mahogany.  Dam'me, 
you  couldn't  treat  me  with  less  respect  if  I  was  veneered.' 
When  the  old  gentleman  said  this,  he  looked  so  fierce 
that  Tom  began  to  grow  frightened. 

'"1  didn't  mean  to  treat  you  with  any  disrespect,  sir,' 
said  Tom,  in  a  much  humbler  tone  than  he  had  spoken 
in  at  first. 

"  '  Well,  well,'  said  the  old  fellow,  '  perhaps  not— per- 
haps not.    Tom — 
'''Sir—' 

"'I  know  everything  about  you,  Tom;  everything. 
You're  very  poor,  Tom.' 

"  '  I  certainly  am,'  said  Tom  Smart.  '  But  how  came 
you  to  know  that?' 

'"Nevermind  that,' said  the  old  gentleman;  'you're 
much  too  fond  of  punch,  Tom.' 

"  Tom  Smart  was  just  on  the  point  of  protesting  that 
he  hadn't  tasted  a  drop  since  his  last  birthday,  but,  when 
his  eye  encountered  that  of  the  old  gentleman,  he  looked 
so  knowing  that  Tom  blushed,  and  was  silent. 

"'Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'the  widow's  a  fine 
woman — remarkably  fine  woman — eh,  Tom?'  Here  the 
old  fellow  screwed  up  his  eyes,  cocked  up  one  of  his 
wasted  little  legs,  and'^  looked  altogether  so  unpleasantly 
amorous,  that  Tom  was  quite  disgusted  with  the  levity 
of  his  behaviour — at  his  time  of  life,  too! 

"  'I  am  her  guardian,  Tom,  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  '  Are  you?'  inquired  Tom  Smart. 

'"I  knew  her  mother,  Tom,' said  the  old  fellow;  ' and 
her  grandmother.  She  was  very  fond  of  me — made  me 
this  waistcoat,  Tom.' 

''  '  Did  she?'  said  Tom  Smart, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  195 

^  And  these  shoes.'  said  the  old  fellow,  lifting  up  one 
of  the  red-cloth  mufflers;  '  but  don't  mention  it,  Tom. 
I  shouldn't  like  to  have  it  known  that  she  was  so  much 
attached  to  me.  It  might  occasion  some  unpleasantness 
in  the  family.'  When  the  old  rascal  said  this,  he  looked 
so  extremely  impertinent,  that,  as  Tom  Smart  after- 
wards declared,  he  could  have  sat  upon  him  without 
remorse. 

"  '1  have  been  a  great  favourite  among  the  women  in 
my  time,  Tom,'  said  the  profligate  old  debauchee;  'hun- 
dreds of  fine  women  have  sat  in  my  lap  for  hours  to- 
gether. What  do  you  think  of  that,  you  dog,  eh?'  The 
old  gentleman  was  proceeding  to  recount  some  other 
exploits  of  his  youth,  when  he  was  seized  with  such  a 
violent  fit  of  creaking  that  he  was  unable  to  proceed. 

Just  serves  you  right,  old  boy,'  thought  Tom  Smart; 
but  he  didn't  say  anything. 

'Ah!' said  the  old  fellow,  'I  am  a  good  deal  trou- 
bled with  this  now.  I  am  getting  old,  Tom,  and  have 
lost  nearly  all  my  rails.  I  have  had  an  operation  per- 
formed, too — a  small  piece  let  into  my  back — and  I  found 
it  a  severe  trial,  Tom.' 

^"1  dare  say  you  did,  sir,'  said  Tom  Smart* 

However,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'that's  not  the 
point.    Tom!  I  want  you  to  marry  the  widow.' 

"  'Me,  sir!'  said  Tom. 

"  'You,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 

^'  'Bless  your  reverend  locks,  said  Tom — (he  had  a  few 
scattered  horse-hairs  left) — '  bless  your  reverend  locks, 
she  wouldn't  have  me.'  And  Tom  sighed  involuntarily, 
as  he  thought  of  the  bar. 

"  'Wouldn't  she?'  said  the  old  gentleman,  firmly. 

"No,  no,'  said  Tom;  'there's  somebody  else  in  the 
wind.  A  tall  man — a  confoundedly  tall  man — with 
black  whiskers.' 

"  '  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman, '  she  will  never  have 
him.' 

"  Won't  she? '  said  Tom.  '  If  you  stood  in  the  bar,  old 
gentleman,  you'd  tell  another  story.' 

"  'Pooh,  pooh,'  said  the  old  gentleman.  'I  know  all 
about  that.' 

"  '  About  what?'  said  Tom. 

'"The  kissing  behind  the  door,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman.    And  here  he  gave 

I 


196  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

another  impudent  look,  which  made  Tom  very  wroth, 
because,  as  you  all  know,  gentlemen,  to  hear  an  old  fel- 
low, who  ought  to  know  better,  talking  about  these 
things,  is  very  unpleasant — nothing  more  so. 

"  '1  know  all  about  that,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 
^  I  have  seen  it  done  very  often  in  my  time,  Tom,  between 
more  people  than  I  should  like  to  mention  to  you;  but 
it  nevex  came  to  anything  after  all.' 

"  'You  must  have  seen  some  queer  things,'  said  Tom, 
with  an  inquisitive  look. 

'  You  may  say  that,  Tom,'  replied  the  old  fellow, 
with  a  very  complicated  wink.  '  I  am  the  last  of  my 
family,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  melancholy 
sigh. 

'Was  it  a  large  one?'  inquired  Tom  Smart. 
''  'There  were  twelve  of  us,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentle- 
man; 'fine  straight-backed,  handsome  fellows  as  you'd 
wish  to  see.  None  of  your  modern  abortions — all  with 
arms,  and  with  a  degree  of  polish,  though  I  say  it,  that 
should  not,  which  would  have  done  your  heart  good  to 
behold.' 

"  'And  what's  become  of  the  others,  sir?'  asked  Tom 
Smart. 

"  The  old  gentleman  applied  his  elbow  to  his  eye  as  he 
replied,  '  Gone,  Tom,  gone.  We  had  hard  service,  Tom, 
and  they  hadn't  all  my  constitution.  They  got  rheu- 
matic about  the  legs  and  arms,  and  went  into  kitchens 
and  other  hospitals;  and  one  of  'em,  with  long  service 
and  hard  usage,  positively  lost  his  senses — he  got  so 
crazy  that  he  was  obliged  to  be  burnt.  Shocking  thing 
that  Tom  ' 

"  'Dreadful! '  said  Tom  Smart. 

"The  old  fellow  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  apparently 
struggling  with  his  feelings  of  emotion,  and  then  said: 

'"However,  Tom,  I  am  wandering  from  the  point. 
This  tall  man,  Tom,  is  a  rascally  adventurer.  The  mo- 
ment he  married  the  widow,  he  would  sell  off  all  the 
furniture,  and  run  away.  What  would  be  the  conse- 
quence? She  would  be  deserted  and  reduced  to  ruin, 
and  I  should  catch  my  death  of  cold  in  some  broker's 
shop. 

'"Yes,  but—' 

" '  Don't  interrupt  me,'  said  the  old  gentleman.  '  Of 
you,  Tom,  I  entertain  a  very  different  opinion;  for  I 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


197 


well  know  that  if  you  once  settled  yourself  in  a  public 
house,  you  would  never  leave  it,  as  long  as  there  was 
anything  to  drink  within  its  walls.' 

'^'I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  good 
opinion,  sir,'  said  Tom  Smart. 

"  '  Therefore,'  resumed  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  dicta- 
torial tone,  'you  shall  have  her,  and  ha  shall  not.' 

"  '  What  is  to  prevent  it?'  said  Tom  Smart,  eagerly. 

"  'This  disclosure,'  replied  the  old  gentleman;  'he  is 
already  married.' 

'How  can  I  prove  it?'  said  Tom,  starting  half  out  of 

bed. 

''The  old  gentleman  untucked  his  arm  from  his  side, 
and  having  pointed  to  one  of  the  oaken  presses,  imme- 
diately replaced  it  in  its  old  position. 

"  'He  little  thinks,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'that  in 
the  right-hand  pocket  of  a  pair  of  trousers  in  that  press, 
he  has  left  a  letter,  entreating  him  to  return  to  his  dis- 
consolate wife,  with  six — mark  me,  Tom — six  babes,  and 
all  of  them  small  ones.' 

"As  the  old  gentleman  solemnly  uttered  these  words, 
his  features  grew  less  and  less  distinct,  and  his  figure 
more  shadowy.  A  film  came  over  Tom  Smart's  eyes. 
The  old  man  seemed  gradually  blending  into  the  chair, 
the  damask  waistcoat  to  resolve  into  a  cushion,  the  red 
slippers  to  shrink  into  little  red  cloth  bags.  The  light 
faded  gently  away,  and  Tom  Smart  fell  back  on  his  pil- 
low, and  dropped  asleep. 

"Morning  aroused  Tom  from  the  lethargic  slumber 
into  which  he  had  fallen  on  the  disappearance  of  the  old 
man.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  and  for  some  minutes  vainly 
endeavoured  to  recall  the  events  of  the  preceding  night. 
Suddenly  they  rushed  upon  him.  He  looked  at  the  chair; 
it  was  a  fantastic  and  grim-looking  piece  of  furniture, 
certainly,  but  it  must  have  been  a  remarkable  ingenious 
and  lively  imagination  that  could  have  discovered  any 
resemblance  between  it  and  an  old  man. 

"  '  How  are  you,  old  boy?'  said  Tom.  He  was  bolder 
in  the  daylight — most  men  are. 

"The  chair  remained  motionless,  and  spoke  not  a 
word. 

"'Miserable  morning,'  said  Tom.  No.  The  chair 
would  not  be  drawn  into  conversation. 

"'Which  press  did  you  point  to? — you  can  tell  me 


198  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OE 

that,'  said  Tom.  Devil  a  word,  gentlemen,  the  chair 
would  say. 

'''It's  not  much  trouble  to  open  it,  any  how,'  said 
Tom,  getting  out  of  bed  very  deliberately.  He  walked 
up  to  one  of  the  presses.  The  key  was  in  the  lock; 
he  turned  it,  and  opened  the  door.  There  was  a  pair 
of  trousers  ther^.  He  put  his  hand  into  the  pocket,  and 
drew  forth  the  identical  letter  the  old  gentleman  had 
described! 

''  'Queer  sort  of  thing,  this,'  said  Tom  Smart,  looking 
first  at  the  chair  and  then  at  the  press,  and  then  at  the 
letter,  and  then  at  the  chair  again.  'Very  queer,'  said 
Tom.  But,  as  there  was  nothing  in  either  to  lessen  the 
queerness,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  dress  himself, 
and  settle  the  tall  man's  business  at  once — ^just  to  put 
him  out  of  his  misery. 

"Tom  surveyed  the  rooms  he  passed  through,  on  his 
way  down  stairs,  with  the  scrutinizing  eye  of  a  land- 
lord; thinking  it  not  impossible  that,  before  long,  they 
and  their  contents  would  be  his  property.  The  tall  man 
was  standing  in  the  snug  little  bar,  with  his  hands  be- 
hind him,  quite  at  home.  He  grinned  vacantly  at  Tom. 
A  casual  observer  might  have  supposed  he  did  it  only  to 
show  his  white  teeth;  but  Tom  Smart  thought  that  a 
consciousness  of  triumph  was  passing  through  the  place 
where  the  tall  man's  mind  would  have  been,  if  he  had 
had  any.  Tom  laughed  in  his  face;  and  summoned  the 
landlady. 

"'Good  morning,  ma'am,'  said  Tom  Smart,  closing 
the  door  of  the  little  parlour  as  the  widow  entered. 

"'Good  morning,  sir,' said  the  widow.  'What  will 
you  take  for  breakfast,  sir?' 

"  Tom  was  thinking  how  he  should  open  the  case,  so 
he  made  no  answer. 

"  'There's  a  very  nice  ham,'  said  the  widow,  'and  a 
beautiful  cold  larded  fowl.    Shall  I  send  'em  in,  sir?' 

"  These  words  roused  Tom  from  his  reflections.  His 
admiration  of  the  widow  increased  as  she  spoke. 
Thoughtful  creature!    Comfortable  provider! 

"  '  Who  is  that  gentleman  in  the  bar,  ma'am?  "  inquired 
Tom. 

"  'His  name  is  Jinkins,  sir,'  said  the  widow,  slightly 
blushing. 
'^  *  He's  a  tall  man,'  said  Tom. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


199 


'  He  is  a  very  fine  man,  sir/  replied  the  widow/  and 
a  very  nice  gentleman.' 
Ah!' said  Tom. 
'  Is  there  anything  more  you  want,  sir?'  inquired  the 
widow,  rather  puzzled  by  Tom's  manner. 

'"Why,  yes/  said  Tom.  'My  dear  ma'am, will  you 
have  the  kindness  to  sit  down  for  one  moment?' 

''The  widow  looked  much  amazed,  but  she  sat  down, 
and  Tom  sat  down,  too,  close  beside  her.  I  don't  know 
how  it  happened,  gentlemen — indeed  my  uncle  used  to 
tell  me  that  Tom  Smart  said  he  didn't  know  how  it  hap- 

Eened  either — but  somehow  or  other  the  palm  of  Tom's 
and  fell  upon  the  back  of .  the  widow's  hand,  and  re- 
mained there  while  he  spoke. 

"  'My  dear  ma'am/  said  Tom  Smart — he  had  always 
a  great  notion  of  committing  the  amiable — 'My  dear 
ma'am,  you  deserve  a  very  excellent  husband — you  do 
indeed.' 

"'Lor,  sir  I'  said  the  widow — as  well  she  might: 
Tom's  mode  of  commencing  the  conversation  being 
rather  unusual,  not  to  say  startling  :  the  fact  of  his 
never  having  set  eyes  upon  her  before  the  previous 
night,  being  taken  into  consideration.    '  Lor,  sir  I' 

"'I  scorn  to  flatter,  my  dear  ma'am,'  said  Tom  Smart. 
'  You  deserve  a  very  admirable  husband,  and  whoever 
he  is,  he'll  be  a  very  lucky  man.'  As  Tom  said  this,  his 
eye  involuntarily  wandered  from  the  widow's  face,  to 
the  comforts  around  him. 

"The  widow  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever,  and 
made  an  effort  to  rise.  Tom  gently  pressed  her  hand, 
as  if  to  detain  her,  and  she  kept  her  seat.  Widows, 
gentlemen,  are  not  usually  timorous,  as  my  uncle  used 
to  say. 

"  '  I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for 
your  good  opinion,'  said  the  buxom  landlady,  half 
laughing  ;  '  and  if  I  ever  marry  again — ' 

"  '  //,'  said  Tom  Smart,  looking  very  shrewdly  out  at 
the  right-hand  corner  of  his  left  eye.  '// — ' 

"  '  Well,'  said  the  widow,  laughing  outright  this  time. 
'  When  I  do,  I  hope  I  shall  have  as  good  a  husband  as 
you  describe.' 

"  '  Jinkins  to  wit,'  said  Tom. 

"  'Lor,  sir  !'  exclaimed  the  widow. 

"  '  Oh,  don't  tell  me,  said  Tom,  '  I  know  him.' 


200  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^  I  am  sure  nobody  who  knows  him  knows  anything 
bad  of  him/  said  the  widow,  bridling  up  at  the  mysteri- 
ous air  with  which  Tom  had  spoken. 
"  '  Hem  ! '  said  Tom  Smart. 

"  The  widow  began  to  think  it  was  high  time  to  cry, 
so  she  took  out  her  handkerchief,  and  inquired  whether 
Tom  wished  to  insult  her  :  whether  he  thought  it  like  a 
gentleman  to  take  away  the  character  of  another  gen- 
tleman behind  his  back  :  why,  if  he  had  got  anything 
to  say,  he  didn't  say  it  to  the  man,  like  a  man,  instead 
of  terrifying  a  poor  weak  woman  in  that  way,  and  so 
forth. 

'I'll  say  it  to  him  fast  enough/  said  Tom,  'only  I 
want  you  to  hear  it  first.' 

"  'What  is  it?'  inquired  the  widow,  looking  intently 
in  Tom's  countenance. 

"  '  I  '11  astonish  you,'  said  Tom,  putting  his  hand  in  his 
pocket. 

"'If  it  is  that  he  wants  money,' said  the  widow,  'I 
know  that  already,  and  you  needn't  trouble  yourself.' 

"'Pooh,  nonsense,  that's  nothing,'  said  Tom  Smart; 
'  I  want  money.    'Tan't  that. 

"  '  Oh  dear,  what  can  it  be?'  exclaimed  the  poor  widow. 

"  '  Don't  be  frightened,'  said  Tom  Smart.  He  slowly 
drew  forth  the  letter,  and  unfolded  it.  'You  won't 
scream  ? '  said  Tom,  doubtfully. 

"  '  No,  no,'  replied  the  widow  ;  '  let  me  see  it.' 

"  '  You  won't  go  fainting  away,  or  any  of  that  non- 
sense?' said  Tom. 

"  '  No,  no,'  returned  the  widow,  hastily. 

"  '  And  don't  run  out,  and  blow  him  up,'  said  Tom,  'be- 
cause I'll  do  all  that  for  you  ;  you  had  better  not  exert 
yourself.' 

"  '  Well,  well,'  said  the  widow,  'let  me  see  it.' 

"  'I  will,'  replied  Tom  Smart;  and,  with  these  words, 
he  placed  the  letter  in  the  widow's  hand. 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  heard  my  uncle  say  that  Tom 
Smart  said  the  widow's  lamentations  when  she  heard 
the  disclosure  would  have  pierced  a  heart  of  stone.  Tom 
was  certainly  very  tender-hearted,  but  they  pierced  his 
to  the  very  core.  The  widow  rocked  herself  to  and  fro, 
and  wrung  her  hands. 

"  'Oh,  the  deception  and  villainy  of  man  !'  said  the 
widow. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  M 


'Frightful,  my  dear  ma'am  ;  but  compose  yourself,' 
said  Tom  Smart. 

'  Oh,  I  can't  compose  myself,'  shrieked  the  widow. 
'  I  shall  never  find  any  one  else  I  can  love  so  much  ! ' 

'  Oh,  yes  you  will,  my  dear  soul,'  said  Tom  Smart,  let- 
ting fall  a  shower  of  large  sized  tears,  in  pity  for  the 
widow's  misfortunes.  Tom  Smart,  in  the  energy  of  his 
compassion,  had  put  his  arm  round  the  widow's  waist; 
and  the  widow,  in  a  passion  of  grief,  had  clasped  Tom'^ 
hand.  She  looked  up  in  Tom's  face,  and  smiled  through 
her  tears.  Tom  looked  down  in  her's  and  smiled 
through  his. 

"  I  never  could  find  out,  gentlemto,  whether  Tom  did 
or  did  not  kiss  the  widow  at  that  particular  moment.  He 
used  to  tell  my  uncle  he  didn't,  but  I  have  my  doubts 
about  it.  Between  ourselves,  gentlemen,  I  rather  think 
he  did. 

''At  all  events,  Tom  kicked  the  very  tall  man  out  at 
the  front  door  half  an  hour  after,  and  married  the  widow 
a  month  after.  And  he  used  to  drive  about  the  country, 
with  the  clay-coloured  gig  with  red  wheels,  and  the 
vixenish  mare  with  the  fast  pace,  till  he  gave  up  busi- 
ness many  years  afterwards,  and  went  to  France  with 
his  wife ;  and  then  the  old  house  was  pulled  down. 


"Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,"  said  the  inquisitive 
old  gentleman,  "  what  became  of  the  chair?" 

"Why,"  replied  the  one-eyed  bagman,  "it  was  ob- 
served to  creak:  very  much  on  the  day  of  the  wedding; 
but  Tom  Smart  couldn't  say  for  certain  whether  it  was 
with  pleasure  or  bodily  infirmity.  He  rather  thought  it 
was  the  latter,  though,  for  it  never  spoke  afterwards." 

"  Everybody  believed  the  story,  didn't  they?"  said  the 
dirty-faced  man,  refilling  his  pipe. 

"  Except  Tom's  enemies."  replied  the  bagman.  '  Some 
of  'em  said  Tom  invented  it  altogether;  and  others  said 
he  was  drunk,  and  fancied  it,  and  got  hold  of  the  wrong 
trousers  by  mistake  before  he  went  to  bed.  But  nobody 
ever  minded  what  f/iez/said." 

"  Tom  said  it  was  all  true?" 

"  Every  word." 

"  And  your  uncle?" 


202  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Every  letter/' 

They  must  have  been  nice  men,  both  of  'em;"  said 
the  dirty-faced  man. 

''Yes,  they  were/'  replied  the  bagman;  very  nice 
men  indeed!" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  WHICH  IS  GIVEN  A  FAITHFUL  PORTRAITURE  OF  TWO 
DISTINGUISHED  PERSONS;  AND  AN  ACCURATE  DESCRIP- 
TION OF  A  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST  IN  THEIR  HOUSE  AND 
GROUNDS;  WHICH  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST  LEADS  TO  THE 
RECOGNITION  OF  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE,  AND  THE 
COMMENCEMENT  OF  ANOTHER  CHAPTER. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  conscience  had  been  somewhat  re- 
proaching him,  for  his  recent  neglect  of  his  friends  at 
the  Peacock;  and  he  was  just  on  the  point  of  walking 
forth  in  quest  of  them,  on  the  third  morning  after  the 
election  had  terminated,  when  his  faithful  valet  put  into 
his  hand  a  card,  on  which  was  engraved  the  following 
inscription: 

Prs.  1^0  funter. 

The  Den,  EatanswilL 

Person's  a  waitin',"  said  Sam,  epigrammatically. 
Does  the  person  want  me,  Sam?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

''He  wants  you  particklar;  and  no  one  else  '11  do,  as 
the  devil's  private  secretary  said,  ven  he  fetched  avay 
Doctor  Faustus,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  He,    Is  it  a  gentleman?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  werry  good  imitation  o'  one,  if  it  an't,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller. 

"  But  this  is  a  lady's  card,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Given  me  by  a  gen'lm'n,  hows'ever,"  replied  Sam, 
"and  he's  a  waitin'  in  the  drawing-room — said  he'd 
rather  wait  all  day  than  not  see  you." 

Mr.  Pickwick,  on  hearing  this  determination,  de- 
scended to  the  drawing-room,  where  sat  a  grave  inan, 
who  started  up  on  his  entrance,  and  said,  with  an  air  of 
profound  respect— 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  203 

"Mr.  Pickwick,  I  presume?" 
"The  same." 

"Allow  me,  sir,  the  honour  of  grasping  your  hand — 
permit  me,  sir,  to  shake  it,"  said  the  grave  man. 
"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  stranger  shook  the  extended  hand,  and  then  con- 
tinued. 

' '  We  have  heard  of  your  fame,  sir.  The  noise  of 
your  antiquarian  discussion  has  reached  the  ears  of 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter — my  wife,  sir;  I  am  Mr,  Leo  Hunter  " — 
the  stranger  paused,  as  if  he  expected  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick would  be  overcome  by  the  disclosure;  but  seeing 
that  he  remained  perfectly  calm,  proceeded. 

"My  wife,'  sir  —  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  —  is  proud  to 
number  among  her  acquaintance  all  those  who  have 
rendered  themselves  celebrated  by  their  works  and 
talents.    Permit  me  sir,  to  place  in  a  conspicuous 

Eart  of  the  list  the  name  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  his 
rother  members  of  the  club  that  derives  its  name 
from  him." 

"  I  shall  be  extremely  happy  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  such  a  lady,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"You  shall  make  it  sir,"  said  the  grave  man.  "  To- 
morrow morning,  sir,  we  give  a  public  breakfast — a 
fete  champHre  to  a  great  number  of  those  who  have 
rendered  themselves  celebrated  by  their  works  and 
talents.  Permit  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  sir,  to  have  the  grati- 
fication of  seeing  you  at  the  Den." 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  has  many  of  these  breakfasts,  sir," 
resumed  the  new  acquaintance — "  '  feasts  of  reason,  sir, 
and  flows  of  soul,'  as  somebody  who  wrote  a  sonnet  to 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  on  her  breakfasts,  feelingly  and  orig- 
inally observed." 

"  Was  he  celebrated  for  his  works  and  talents  ?  "  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  He  was,  sir,"  replied  the  grave  man,  "all  Mrs.  Leo 
Hunter's  acquaintance  are;  it  is  her  ambition,  sir,  to 
have  no  other  acquaintance." 

"  It  is  a  very  noble  ambition,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"When  I  inform  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  that  that  remark  fell 
from  your  lips,  sir,  she  will  indeed  be  proud,"  said  the 
rave  man.  "  You  have  a  gonf Ionian  in  your  train,  who 
as  produced  some  beautiful  little  poems,  I  think,  sir." 


204 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


'^My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  great  taste  for 
poetry,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''So  has  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  sir.  She  dotes  on  poetry, 
sir.  She  adores  it;  I  may  say  that  her  whole  soul  and 
mind  are  wound  up,  and  entwined  with  it:  She  has 
produced  some  delightful  pieces  herself,  sir.  You  may 
have  met  with  her  '  Ode  to  an  Expiring  Frog,'  sir." 

"  I  don't  think  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''You  astonish  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter.  "It 
created  an  immense  sensation.  It  was  signed  with  an 
'  L'  and  eight  stars,  and  appeared  originally  in  a  Lady's 
Magazine.    It  commenced 

*  Can  I  view  thee  panting,  lying 
On  thy  stomach,  without  sighing; 
Can  I  unmoved  see  thee  dying 

On  a  log, 
Expiring  frog ! ' " 

"  Beautiful !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Fine,"  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter,  "so  simple." 

"Very,"  said  Mr.  Pickv/ick. 

"The  next  verse  is  still  more  touching.  Shall  I  re- 
peat it  ?" 

"If  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  runs  thus,"  said  the  grave  man,  still  more  gravely. 

*  Say,  have  fiends  in  shape  of  boys, 
With  wild  halloo,  and  brutal  noise. 
Hunted  thee  from  marshy  joys. 

With  a  dog. 
Expiring  frog  ! ' " 

"  Finely  expressed,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  All  point,  sir,  all  point,"  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter,  "but 
you  shall  hear  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  repeat  it.  She  can  do 
justice  to  it,  sir.  She  will  repeat  it,  in  character,  sir, 
to-morrow  morning." 

"  In  character  !" 

"As  Minerva.  But  I  forgot— it's  a  fancy  dress  break- 
fast." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing  at  his  own 
figure — "I  can't  possibly"— 

"  Can't,  sir;  can't !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Leo  Hunter.  "  Sol- 
omon Lucas,  the  Jew  in  High  Street,  has  thousands  of 
fancy  dresses.    Consider,  sir,  how  many  appropriate 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


205 


characters  are  open  for  your  selection.  Plato,  Zeno, 
Epicurus,  Pythagoras — all  founders  of  clubs." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  ''but  as  I  cannot 
put  myself  in  competition  with  those  great  men,  I  can- 
not presume  to  wear  their  dresses." 

The  grave  man  considered  deeply,  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  then  said: 

''On  reflection,  sir,  I  don't  know  whether  it  would  not 
afford  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  greater  pleasure  if  her  guests 
saw  a  gentleman  of  your  celebrity  in  his  own  costume, 
rather  than  in  an  assumed  one.  I  may  venture  to  prom- 
ise an  exception  in  your  case,  sir — yes,  I  am  quite  certain 
that,  on  behalf  of  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  I  may  venture  to 
do  so." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  shall  have 
great  pleasure  in  coming. " 

"But  I  waste  your  time,  sir,"  said  the  grave  man,  as 
if  suddenly  recollecting  himself.  "  I  know  its  value, 
sir.  I  will  not  detain  you.  I  may  tell  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter, 
then,  tha^  she  may  confidently  expect  you  and  your  dis- 
tinguished friends?  Good  morning,  sir;  I  am  proud  to 
have  beheld  so  eminent  a  personage — not  a  step,  sir;  not 
a  word."  And  without  giving  Mr.  Pickwick  time  to 
offer  remonstrance  or  denial,  Mr.  Leo  Hunter  stalked 
gravely  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  up  his  hat,  and  repaired  to  the 
Peacock,  but  Mr.  Winkle  had  conveyed  the  intelligence 
of  the  fancy  ball  there  before  him. 

"Mrs.  Pott's  going,"  were  the  first  words  with  which 
he  saluted  his  leader. 

"Is  she?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"As  Apollo,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "Only  Pott  objects 
to  the  tunic. 

"He  is  right.  He  is  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
emphatically. 

"Yes — so  she's  going  to  wear  a  white  satin  gown 
with  gold  spangles." 

"They'll  hardly  know  what  she's  meant  for,  will 
they?"  inquired  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"Of  course  they  will,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  indig- 
nantly.   "They'll  see  her  lyre,  won't  they?" 

"True;  I  forgot  that,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"I  shall  go  as  a  Bandit,"  interposed  Mr.  Tupman. 

"What!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  sudden  start. 


306  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''As  a  bandit/'  repeated  Mr.  Tupman,  mildly. 

''You  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gazing 
with  solemn  sternness  at  his  friend,  "  You  don't  mean 
to  say,  Mr.  Tupman,  that  it  is  your  intention  to  pu?t 
yourself  into  a  green  velvet  jacket,  with  a  two-inch  tail?" 

"Such  is  my  intention,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman, 
warmly.    "And  why  not,  sir?" 

"Because,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  considerably  ex- 
cited, ''because  you  are  too  old,  sir." 

"Too  old!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman. 

"And  if  any  further  ground  of  objection  be  wanting," 
continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  "you  are  too  fat,  sir." 

"Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  his  face  suffused  with  a 
crimson  glow.    "  This  is  an  insult." 

"Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  the  same  tone,  "it  is 
not  half  the  insult  to  you,  that  your  appearance  in  my 
presence  in  a  green  velvet  jacket,  with  a  two-inch  tail, 
would  be  to  me." 

"Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  "you're  a  fellow." 

"Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "you're  another.'' 

Mr.  Tupman  advanced  a  step  or  two,  and  glared  at 
Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr.  Pickwick  returned  the  glare,  con- 
centrated into  a  focus  by  means  of  his  spectacles,  and 
breathed  a  bold  defiance.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
Winkle  looked  on,  petrified  at  beholding  such  a  scene 
between  two  such  men. 

"Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  after  a  short  pause,  speaking 
in  a  low,  deep  voice,  "you  have  called  me  old." 

"I  have,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"And  fat." 

"  I  reiterate  the  charge. 

"And  a  fellow." 

" So  you  are!" 

There  was  a  fearful  pause. 

"  My  attachment  to  your  person,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man, speaking  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  and 
tucking  up  his  wristbands  meanwhile,  "  is  great — very 
great — but  upon  that  person  I  must  take  summary 
vengeance." 

"Come  on,  sir!"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  Stimulated 
by  the  exciting  nature  of  the  dialogue,  the  heroic  man 
actually  threw  himself  into  a  paralytic  attitude,  con- 
fidently supposed  by  the  two  by-standers  to  have  been 
intended  as  a  posture  of  defence. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


20? 


What! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  suddenly  recover- 
ing the  power  of  speech,  of  which  intense  astonishment 
had  previously  bereft  him,  and  rushing  between  the  two, 
at  the  imminent  hazard  of  receiving  an  application  on 
the  temple  from  each.  ''What!  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the 
eyes  of  the  world  upon  you!  Mr.  Tupman,  who,  in  com- 
mon with  us  all,  derives  a  lustre  from  his  undying 
name!    For  shame,  gentlemen;  for  shame." 

The  unwonted  lines  which  momentary  passion  had 
ruled  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  clear  and  open  brow  gradually 
melted  away,  as  his  young  friend  spoke,  like  the  marks 
of  a  black-lead  pencil  beneath  the  softening  influence  of 
India  rubber.  His  couMenance  had  resumed  its  usual 
benign  expression  ere  he  concluded. 

"  I  have  been  hasty,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''  very  hasty. 
Tupman;  your  hand." 

The  dark  shadow  passed  from  Mr.  Tupman's  face  as 
he  warmly  grasped  the  hand  of  his  friend. 

"  I  have  been  hasty  too,"  said  he. 

''No,  no,"  interrupted  Mr.  Pickwick,  "the  fault  was 
mine.    You  will  wear  the  green  velvet  jacket?" 

"No,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  To  oblige  me,  you  will,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Well,  well,  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

It  was  accordingly  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr. 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  should  all  wear  fancy  dresses. 
Thus  Mr.  Pickwick  was  led  by  the  very  warmth  of  his 
own  good  feelings  to  give  his  consent  to  a  proceeding 
from  which  his  better  judgment  would  have  recoiled — 
a  more  striking  illustration  of  his  amiable  character 
could  hardly  have  been  conceived,  even  if  the  events 
r(3Corded  in  these  pages  had  been  wholly  imaginary. 

Mr.  Leo  Hunter  had  not  exaggerated  the  resources  of 
Mr.  Solomon  Lucas.  His  wardrobe  was  extensive — very 
extensive — not  strictly  classical,  perhaps,  nor  q^uite  new, 
nor  did  it  contain  any  one  garment  made  precisely  after 
the  fashion  of  any  age  or  time,  but  everything  was  more 
or  less  spangled;  and  what  ca??-  be  prettier  than  spangles! 
It  may  be  objected  that  they  are  not  adapted  to  the 
daylight,  but  everybody  knows  that  they  would  glitter 
if  there  were  lamps;  and  nothing  can  be  clearer  than 
that  if  people  give  fancy  balls  in  the  daytime,  and  the 
dresses  do  not  show  quite  as  well  as  they  would  by -night, 
the  fault  lies  solely  with  the  people  who  give  the  fancy 


208 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


balls,  and  is  in  no  wise  chargeable  on  the  spangles.  Such 
was  the  convincing  reasoning  of  Mr.  Solomon  Lucas; 
and  influenced  by  such  arguments  did  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr. 
Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  engage  to  array  themselves 
in  costumes  which  his  taste  and  experience  induced  him 
to  recommend  as  admirably  suited  to  the  occasion. 

A  carriage  was  hired  from  the  Town  Arms,  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  Pickwickians,  and  a  chariot  was 
ordered  from  the  same  repository,  for  the  purpose  of 
conveying  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pott  to  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's 
grounds,  which  Mr.  Pott,  as  a  delicate  acknowledgment 
of  having  received  an  invitation,  had  already  confi- 
dently predicted  in  the  Eatans^ll  Gazette  would  pre- 
sent a  scene  of  varied  and  delicious  enchantment — a 
bewildering  coruscation  of  beauty  and  talent — a  lavish 
and  prodigal  display  of  hospitality — above  all,  a  degree 
of  splendour  softened  by  the  most  exquisite  taste-;  and 
adornment  refined  with  perfect  harmony  and  the  chast- 
est good-keeping — compared  with  which,  the  fabled 
gorgeousness  of  Eastern  Fairy  Land  itself  would  appear 
to  be  clothed  in  as  many  dark  and  murky  colours,  as 
must  be  the  mind  of  the  splenetic  and  unmanly  being 
who  could  presume  to  taint  with  the  venom  of  his  envy 
the  preparations  making  by  the  virtuous  and  highly 
distinguished  lady,  at  whose  shrine  this  humble  tribute 
of  admiration  was  offered."  This  last  was  a  piece  of 
biting  sarcasm  against  the  Independent,  who,  in  conse- 
quence of  not  having  been  invited  at  all,  had  been 
through  four  numbers  affecting  to  sneer  at  the  w^hole 
affair,  in  his  very  largest  type,  with  all  the  adjectives 
in  capital  letters. 

The  morning  came;  it  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  behold 
Mr.  Tupman  in  full  Brigand's  costume,  with  a  very 
tight  jacket,  sitting  like  a  pincushion  over  his  back  and 
shoulders:  the  upper  portion  of  his  legs  encased  in  the 
velvet  shorts,  and  the  lower  part  thereof  swathed  in  the 
complicated  bandages  to  which  all  Brigands  are  pecu- 
liarly attached.  It  was  pleasing  to  see  his  open  and 
mgenious  countenance,  well  mushtachioed  and  corked, 
looking  out  from  an  open  shirt  collar;  and  to  contem- 
plate the  sugar-loaf  hat,  decorated  with  ribbons  of  all 
colours,  which  he  was  compelled  to  carry  on  his  knee, 
inasmuch  as  no  known  conveyance  with  a  top  to  it 
would  admit  of  any  man's  carrying  it  between  his  head 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


and  the  roof.  Equally  humourous  and  agreeable,  was 
the  appearance  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  blue  satin  trunks 
and  cloak,  white  silk  tights  and  shoes,  and  Grecian  hel- 
met: which  everybody  knows  (and  if  they  do  not,  Mr; 
Solomon  Lucas  did)  to  have  been  the  regular,  authentic, 
every-day  costume  of  a  Troubadour,  from  the  earliest 
ages  down  to  the  time  of  their  final  disappearance  from 
the  face  of  the  earth.  All  this  was  pleasant,  but  this 
was  as  nothing  compared  with  the  shouting  of  the  pop- 
ulace when  the  carriage  drew  up,  behind  Mr.  Pott's 
chariot,  which  chariot  itself  drev/  up  at  Mr.  Pott's  door, 
which  door  itself  opened,  and  displayed  the  great  Pott 
accoutred  as  a  Russian  officer  of  justice,  with  a  tremen- 
dous knout  in  his  hand — tastefully  typical  of  the  stern 
and  mighty  power  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  the 
fearful  lashings  it  bestowed  on  public  offenders. 

''Bravo!"  shouted  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass 
from  the  passage,  when  they  beheld  the  walking  al- 
legory. 

''Bravo!"  Mr.  Pickwick  was  heard  to  exclaim  from 
the  passage. 

"  Hoo — roar  Pott!"  shouted  the  populace.  Amid  these 
salutations,  Mr.  Pott,  smiling  with  that  kind  of  bland 
dignity  which  sufficiently  testified  that  he  felt  his  power, 
and  knew  how  to  exert  it,  got  into  the  chariot. 

Then  there  emerged  from  the  house,  Mrs.  Pott,  who 
would  have  looked  very  like  Apollo,  if  she  hadn't  had  a 
gown  on :  conducted  by  Mr.  Winkle,  who  in  his  light-red 
coat,  could  not  possibly  have  been  mistaken  for  anything 
but  a  sportsman,  if  he  had  not  borne  an  equal  resem- 
blance to  a  general  postman.  Last  of  all,  came  Mr. 
Pickwick,  whom  the  boys  applauded  as  loudly  as  any- 
body, probably  under  the  impression  that  his  tights  and 
gaiters  were  some  remnants  of  the  dark  ages;  and  then 
the  two  vehicles  proceeded  towards  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's : 
Mr.  Weller  (who  was  to  assist  in  waiting)  being 
stationed  on  the  box  of  that  in  which  his  master  was 
seated. 

Every  one  of  the  men,  women,  boys,  girls,  and  babies, 
who  were  assembled  to  see  the  visitors  in  their  fancy 
dresses,  screamed  with  delight  and  ecstasy,  when  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  the  Brigand  on  one  arm,  and  the  Trou- 
badour on  the  other,  walked  solemnly  up  the  entrance. 
Never  were  such  shouts  heard,  as  those  which  greeted 


310  POSTHUMOtJS  PAPERS  OF 


Mr.  Tupman's  efforts  to  fix  the  sugar-loaf  hat  on  his 
head,  by  way  of  entering  the  garden  in  style. 

The  preparations  were  on  the  most  delightful  scale; 
fully  realizing  the  prophetic  Pott's  anticipations  about 
the  gorgeousness  of  Eastern  Fairy  Land,  and  at  once 
affording  a  sufficient  contradiction  to  the  malignant 
statements  of  the  reptile  Independent.  The  grounds 
were  more  than  an  acre  and  a  quarter  in  extent,  and 
they  were  filled  with  people!  Never  was  such  a  blaze 
of  beauty,  and  fashion,  and  literature.  There  was  the 
young  lady  who ''did"  the  poetry  in  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette,  in  the  garb  of  a  sultana,  leaning  upon  the  arm 
of  the  young  gentleman,  who  ''did"  the  review  depart- 
ment, and  who  was  appropriately  habited  in  a  lield- 
marshal's  uniform — ^the  boots  excepted.  There  were 
hosts  of  these  geniuses,  and  any  reasonable  person 
would  have  thought  it  honour  enough  to  meet  them. 
But  more  than  these,  there  were  half-a-dozen  lions  from 
London — authors,  real  authors,  who  had  written  whole 
books,  and  printed  them  afterwards — and  here  you 
might  see  'em,  walking  about,  like  ordinary  men,  smil- 
ing, and  talking — ay,  and  talking  pretty  considerable 
nonsense  too,  no  doubt  with  the  benign  intention  of 
rendering  themselves  intelligible  to  the  common  people 
about  them.  Moreover,  there  was  a  band  of  music  in 
pasteboard  caps  ;  four  something-ean  singers  in  the 
costume  of  their  country — and  very  dirty  costume  too. 
And  above  all,  there  was  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  in  the  char- 
acter of  Minerva,  receiving  the  company,  and  overflow- 
ing with  pride  and  gratification  at  the  notion  of  having 
called  such  distinguished  individuals  together. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  ma'am,"  said  a  servant,  as  that  gentle- 
man approached  the  presiding  goddess,  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand,  and  the  Brigand  and  Troubadour  on  either  arm. 

"What!  Where!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  starting 
up,  in  an  affected  rapture  of  surprise. 

"  Here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Is  it  possible  that  I  have  really  the  gratification  of 
beholding  Mr.  Pickwick  himself?"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Leo 
Hunter. 

"No  other,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  bowing 
very  low.  "Permit  me  to  introduce  my  friends — Mr. 
Tupman— Mr.  Winkle— Mr.  Snodgrass— to  the  authoress 
of  "  The  Expiring  Frog." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


Very  few  people  but  those  who  have  tried  it  know  what 
a  difficult  process  it  is  to  bow  in  green  velvet  smalls,  and 
a  tight  jacket,  and  a  high-crowned  hat:  or  in  blue  satin 
trunks  and  white  silks:  or  knee-cords  and  top-boots  that 
were  never  made  for  the  wearer,  and  have  been  fixed 
upon  him  without  the  remotest  reference  to  the  com- 
parative dimensions  of  himself  and  the  suit.  Never 
were  such  distortions  as  Mr.  Tupman's  frame  underwent 
in  his  efforts  to  appear  easy  and  graceful— never  was 
such  ingenious  posturing,  as  his  fancy-dressed  friends 
exhibited. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick/'  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  "  I  must  make 
you  promise  not  to  stir  from  my  side  the  whole  day. 
There  are  hundreds  of  people  here  that  I  must  positively 
introduce  you  to." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  In  the  first  place,  here  are  my  little  girls;  I  had  al- 
most forgotten  them,"  said  Minerva,  carelessly  pointing 
towards  a  couple  of  full-grown  young  ladies,  of  whom 
one  might  be  about  twenty,  and  the  other  a  year  or  two 
older,  and  who  were  dressed  in  very  juvenile  costumes, 
whether  to  make  them  look  young,  or  their  mamma 
younger,  Mr.  Pickwick  does  not  distinctly  inform  us. 

''They  are  very  beautiful,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the 
juveniles  turned  away,  after  being  presented. 

"They  are  very  like  their  mamma,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pott, 
majestically. 

^  ''Oh,  you  naughty  man,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter, 
playfully  tapping  the  editor's  arm  with  her  fan.  (Min- 
erva with  a  fan!) 

"  Why,  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hunter,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  who 
was  trumpeter  in  ordinary  at  the  Den,  "you  know  that 
when  your  picture  was  in  the  exhibition  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  last  year,  everybody  inquired  whether  it  was 
intended  for  you,  or  your  youngest  daughter;  for  you 
were  so  much  alike  that  there  was  no  telling  the  differ- 
ence between  you." 

"  Well,  and  if  they  did,  why  need  you  repeat  it  before 
strangers?"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  bestowing  another  tap 
on  the  slumbering  lion  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

"Count,  Count,"  screamed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  to  a  well- 
whiskered  individual  in  a  foreign  uniform,  who  was 
passing  by. 

"Ah!  you  want  me?"  said  the  Count,  turning  back. 


212  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

'^I  want  to  introduce  two  very  clever  people  to  each 
other,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter.  '^Mr.  Pickwick,  I  have 
great  pleasure  in  introducing  you  to  Count  Smorltork." 
She  added  in  a  hurried  whisper  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^^The 
famous  foreigner — gathering  materials  for  his  great 
work  on  England — hem — Count  Smorltork,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick." 

Mr.  Pickwick  saluted  the  Count  with  all  the  reverence 
due  to  so  great  a  map,  and  the  Count  drew  forth  a  set 
of  tablets. 

''What  you  say,  Mrs.  Hunt?"  inquired  the  Count, 
smiling  graciously  on  the  gratified  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter, 
''Pig  Vig  or  Big  Vig — what  you  call — lawyer — eh?  I 
see — that  is  it.  Big  Vig,"  and  the  Count  was  proceeding 
to  enter  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  tablets,  as  a  gentleman  of 

the  long-robe,  who  derived  his  name  from  the  profes- 
sion to  which  he  belonged,  when  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  inter- 
posed. 

"No,  no,  Count,"  said  the  lady,  "Pick-wick." 

"Ah,  ah,  I  see,"  replied  the  Count.  "  Peek — christian 
name;  Weeks — surname;  good,  ver  good.  Peek  Weeks. 
How  do  you  do.  Weeks?" 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
all  his  usual  affability.  "Have  you  been  long  in  Eng- 
land?" 

"  Long — ver  long  time — fortnight — ^more." 
"  Do  you  stay  here  long?" 
"One  week." 

"You  will  have  enough  to  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
smiling,  "  to  gather  all  the  materials  you  want  in  that 
time." 

"  Eh,  they  are  gathered,"  said  the  Cotmt. 
"Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"They  are  here,"  added  the  Count,  tapping  his  fore- 
head significantly.  "  Large  book  at  home — full  of  notes 
— music,  picture,  science,  potry,  poltic;  all  tings." 

"The  word  politics,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "com- 
prises, in  itself,  a  difficult  study  of  no  inconsiderable 
magnitude." 

"Ah!"  said  the  Count,  drawing  out  the  tablets  again, 
"ver  good — ^fine  words  to  begin  a  chapter.  Chapter 
forty-seven.  Poltics.  The  word  poltic  surprises  by 
himself."   And  down  went  Mr.  Pickwick's  remark,  in 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


213 


Count  Smorltork's  tablets,  with  such  variations  and  ad- 
ditions as  the  Count's  exuberant  fancy  suggested,  or  his 
imperfect  knowledge  of  the  language  occasioned. 

Count,  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

Mrs.  Hunt,''  replied  the  Count. 
''This  is  Mr.  Snodgrass,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pickwick's, 
and  a  poet." 

''  Stop,"  exclaimed  the  Count,  bringing  out  the  tablets 
once  more.  "Head,  potry — chapter,  literary  friends — 
name,  Snowgrass;  ver  good.  Introduced  to  Snowgrass 
— great  poet — friend  of  Peek  Weeks — by  Mrs.  Hunt, 
which  wrote  other  sweet  poem — what  is  that  name? — 
Fog — Perspiring  Fog— ver  good — ver  good  indeed."  And 
the  Count  put  up  his  tablets,  and  with  sundry  bows  and 
acknowledgments  walked  away,  thoroughly  satisfied 
that  he  had  made  the  most  important  and  valuable  ad- 
ditions to  his  stock  of  information. 

"Wonderful  man,  Count  Smorltork,"  said  Mrs.  Leo 
Hunter. 

"  Sound  philosopher,"  said  Pott. 

"Clear-headed,  strong-minded  person,"  added  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

A  chorus  of  by-standers  took  up  the  shout  of  Count 
Smorltork's  praises,  shook  their  heads  sagely,  and  unani- 
mously cried  "Very."  • 

As  the  enthusiasm  in  Count  Smorltork's  favour  ran 
very  high,  his  praises  might  have  been  sung  until  the 
end  of  the  festivities  if  the  four  something-ean  singers 
had  not  ranged  themselves  in  front  of  a  small  apple-tree, 
to  look  picturesque,  and  commenced  singing  their  na- 
tional songs,  which  appeared  by  no  means  difficult  of 
execution,  inasmuch  as  the  grand  secret  seemed  to  be 
that  three  of  the  something-ean  singers  should  grunt, 
while  the  fourth  howled.  This  interesting  performance 
having  concluded  amidst  the  loud  plaudits  of  the  whole 
company,  a  boy  forthwith  proceeded  to  entangle  himself 
with  the  rails  of  a  chair,  and  to  jump  over  it,  and  crawl 
under  it,  and  fall  down  with  it,  and  do  everything  but 
sit  upon  it,  and  then  to  make  a  cravat  of  his  legs,  and 
tie  them  round  his  neck,  and  then  to  illustrate  the  ease 
with  which  a  human  being  can  be  made  to  look  like  a 
magnified  toad — all  which  feats  yielded  high  delight  and 
satisfaction  to  the  assembled  spectators.  After  which, 
the  voice  of  Mrs.  Pott  was  heard  to  chirp  faintly  forth, 


214  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


something  which  courtesy  interpreted  into  a  son^,  which 
was  all  very  classical,  and  strictly  in  character,  oecause 
Apollo  was  himself  a  composer,  and  composers  can  very 
seldom  sing  their  own  music  or  anybody  else's  either. 
This  vv^as  succeeded  by  Mrs.  Leo  Hunters  recitation  of 
her  far-famed  ode  to  an  Expiring  Frog,  which  was  en- 
cored once,  and  would  have  been  encored  twice,  if  the 
major  part  of  the  guests,  who  thought  it  was  high  time 
io  get  something  to  eat,  had  not  said  that  it  was  per- 
fectly shameful  to  take  advantage  of  Mrs.  Hunter's 
good  nature.  So,  although  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  professed  her 
perfect  willingness  to  recite  the  ode  again,  her  kind  and 
considerate  friends  wouldn't  hear  .of  it  on  any  account ; 
and  the  refreshment  room  being  thrown  open,  all  the 
people  who  had  ever  been  there  before  scrambled  in  with 
all  possible  despatch  :  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  usual  course  of 
proceeding  being  to  issue  cards  for  a  hundred  and  break- 
fast for  fifty,  or,  in  other  words,  to  feed  only  the  very 
particular  lions,  and  let  the  smaller  animals  take  care  of 
themselves. 

Where  is  Mr.  Pott  ?"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  as  she 
placed  the  aforesaid  lions  around  her. 

'^Here  I  am,"  said  the  Editor,  from  the  remotest  end 
of  the  room,  far  beyond  all  hope  of  food,  unless  some- 
thing was  done  for  him  by  the  hostess. 

"  Won't  you  come  up  here  ?  " 

'"  Oh,  pray  don't  mind  him,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  the 
most  obliging  voice — "  you  give  yourself  a  great  deal  of 
unnecessary  trouble,  Mrs.  Hunter.  You'll  do  very  well 
there,  won't  you — dear  ?  " 

''Certainly — love,"  replied  the  unhappy  Pott,  with  a 
grim  smile.  Alas  for  the  knout  !  The  nervous  arm  that 
wielded  it  with  such  gigantic  force  on  public  characters 
was  paralyzed  beneath  the  glance  of  the  imperious  Mrs. 
Pott. 

Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  looked  round  her  in  triumph.  Count 
Smorltork  was  busily  engaged  in  taking  notes  of  the 
contents  of  the  dishes  ;  Mr.  Tupman  was  doing  the 
honours  of  the  lobster  salad  to  several  lionesses  with  a 
degree  of  grace  which  no  brigand  ever  exhibited  be- 
fore; Mr.  Snodgrass  having  cut  out  the  young  gentleman 
who  cut  up  the  books  for  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  was 
engaged  in  an  impassioned  argument  with  the  young 
lady  who  did  the  poetry  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  making 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  215 


himself  universally  agreeable.  Nothing  seemed  wanting 
to  render  the  select  circle  complete,  when  Mr.  Leo  Hun- 
ter— whose  department  on  these  occasions  was  to  stand 
about  in  doorways  and  talk  to  the  less  important  people 
— suddenly  called  out — 

''My  dear,  here's  Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall." 

''Oh,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  "how  anxiously 
I  have  been  expecting  him.  Pray  make  room,  to  let 
Mr.  Fitz-Marshall  pass.  Tell  Mr.  Fitz-Marshall,  my 
dear,  to  come  up  to  me  directly,  to  be  scolded  for  coming 
so  late." 

"  Coming,  my  dear  ma'am,"  cried  a  voice,  "  as  quick 
as  I  can — crowds  of  people — full  room — hard  work — 
very." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  knife  and  fork  fell  from  his  hand.  He 
stared  across  the  table  at  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  dropped 
his  knife  and  fork,  arid  was  looking  as  if  he  were  .about 
to  sink  into  the  ground  without  further  notice. 

"  Ah  !"  cried  the  voice,  as  its  owner  pushed  his  way 
among  the  last  five-and-twenty  Turks,  officers,  cavaliers, 
and  Charles  the  Seconds,  that  remained  between  him  and 
the  table,  "regular  mangle — Baker's  patent — not  a 
crease  in  my  coat  after  all  this  squeezing — might  have 
'  got  up  my  linen '  as  I  came  along — ha  !  ha  !  not  a  bad 
idea  that — queer  thing  to  have  it  mangled  when  it's  upon 
one,  though — trying  process — very." 

With  these  broken  words,  a  young  man  dressed  as  a 
naval  officer  made  his  way  up  to  the  table,  and  pre- 
sented to  the  astonished  Pickwickians  the  identical 
form  and  features  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle. 

The  offender  had  barely  time  to  take  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's 
proffered  hand,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  indignant 
orbs  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 

"  Hallo  I  said  Jingle.  "  Quite  forgot — no  directions  to 
postilion — give  'em  at  once — back  in  a  minute." 

"The  servant  or  Mr  Hunter  will  do  it  in  a  moment, 
Mr.  Fitz-Marshall,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

"No,  no — I  '11  do  it — shan't  be  long — back  in  no  time," 
replied  Jingle.  With  these  words  he  disappeared  among 
the  crowd. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  ex- 
cited Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  from  liis  seat,  "  who  that 
young  man  is,  and  where  he  resides  ! " 

"  He  is  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said 


316  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  ^^to  whom  I  very  much  want  to  in- 
troduce you.    The  Count  will  be  delighted  with  him." 

''Yes,  yes/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick^  hastily.  ''His  resi- 
dence— " 

"  Is  at  present  at  the  Angel  at  Bury." 
"At  Bury?" 

"At  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  not  many  miles  from  herS. 
But,  dear  me,  Mr.  Pickwick,  you  are  not  going  to  leave 
us:  surely,  Mr.  Pickwick,  you  cannot  think  of  going 
so  soon." 

But  long  before  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  had  finished  speak- 
ing, Mr.  Pickwick  had  plunged  through  the  throng,  and 
i-eached  the  garden,  whither  he  was  shortly  afterwards 
joined  by  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  followed  his  friend 
closely. 

"It's  of  no  use,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.    "He  has  gone." 
"I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "and  I  will  follow 
him." 

"Follow  him!    Where?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

•'  To  the  Angel  at  Bury,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  speak- 
ing very  quickly.  "  How  do  we  know  whom  he  is  de- 
ceiving there  ?  He  deceived  a  worthy  man  once,  and 
we  were  the  innocent  cause.  He  shall  not  do  it  again, 
if  I  can  help  it;  I'll  expose  him.  Sam  !  Where's  my 
servant  ?  " 

"  Here  you  are,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  emerging  from  a 
sequestered  spot,  where  he  had  been  engaged  in  discuss- 
ing a  bottle  of  Madeira,  which  he  had  abstracted  from 
the  breakfast  table,  an  hour  or  two  before.  "Here's 
your  servant,  sir.  Proud  o'  the  title,  as  the  Living  Skel- 
linton  said,  ven  they  show'd  him." 

"Follow  me  instantly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Tup- 
man, if  I  stay  at  Bury,  you  can  join  me  there,  when  I 
write.    Till  then,  good-bye  ! " 

Kemonstrances  were  useless.  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
roused,  and  his  mind  was  made  up.  Mr.  Tupman  re- 
turned to  his  companions;  and  in  another  hour  had 
drowned  all  present  recollection  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  or 
Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall,  in  an  exhilarating  quadrille 
and  a  bottle  of  champagne.  By  that  time,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Sam  Weller,  perched  on  the  outside  of  a 
stage  coach,  were  every  succeeding  minute  placing  a 
less  and  less  distance  between  themselves  and  the  good 
old  town  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


217 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TOO  FULL  OF  ADVENTURE  TO  BE  BRIEFLY  DESCRIBED. 

There  is  no  month  in  the  whole  year  in  which  nature 
wears  a  more  beautiful  appearance  than  in  the  month  of  * 
August.  Spring  has  many  beauties,  and  May  is  a  'fresh 
and  blooming  month,  but  the  charms  of  this  time  of 
year  are  enhanced  by  their  contrast  with  the  winter  sea- 
son. August  has  no  such  advantage.  It  comes  when 
we  remember  nothing  but  clear  skies,  green  fields,  and 
sweet-smelling  flowers — when  the  recollection  of  snow, 
and  ice,  and  bleak  winds,  has  faded  from  our  minds  as 
completely  as  they  have  disappeared  from  the  earth— and 
yet  what  a  pleasant  time  it  is!  Orchards  and  corn-fields 
ring  with  the  hum  of  labour;  trees  bend  beneath  the 
thick  clusters  of  rich  fruit  which  bow  their  branches  to 
the  ground;  and  the  corn,  piled  in  graceful  sheaves,  or 
waving  in  every  light  breath  that  sweeps  above  it,  as  if 
it  wooed  the  sickle,  tinges  the  landscape  with  a  golden 
hue.  A  mellow  softness  appears  to  hang  over  the  whole 
earth;  the  influence  of  the  season  seems  to  extend  itself 
to  the  very  wagon,  whose  slow  motion  across  the  well- 
reaped  field,  is  perceptible  only  to  the  eye,  but  strikes 
with  no  harsh  sound  upon  the  ear. 

As  the  coach  rolls  swiftly  past  the  fields  and  orchards 
which  skirt  the  road,  groups  of  women  and  children, 
piling  the  fruit  in  sieves,  or  gathering  the  scattered  ears 
of  corn,  pause  for  an  instant  from  their  labour,  and 
shading  the  sun-burnt  face  with  a  still  browner  hand, 
gaze  upon  the  passengers  with  curious  eyes,  while  some 
stout  urchin,  too  small  to  work,  but  too  mischievous  to 
be  left  at  home,  scrambles  over  the  side  of  the  basket  in 
which  he  has  been  deposited  for  security,  and  kicks  and 
screams  with  delight.  The  reaper  stops  in  his  work,  and 
stands  with  folded  arms,  looking  at  the  vehicle  as  it 
whirls  past;  and  the  rough  cart-horses  bestow  a  sleepy 
glance  upon  the  smart  coach  team,  whicli  says,  as  plainly 
as  a  horse's  glance  can,  "  It's  all  very  fine  to  look  at,  but 
slow  going,  over  a  heavy  field,  is  better  than  warm  work 
like  that,  upon  a  dusty  road,  after  all."   You  cast  a  look 


218  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


behind  you,  as  you  turn  a  corner  of  the  road.  The 
women  and  children  have  resumed  their  labour:  the 
reaper  once  more  stoops  to  his  work:  the  cart-horses  have 
moved  on:  and  all  are  again  in  motion. 

The  influence  of  a  scene  like  this  was  not  lost  upon  the 
well-regulated  mind  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  Intent  upon  the 
resolution  he  had  formed,  of  exposing  the  real  character 
of  the  nefarious  Jingle,  in  any  quarter  in  which  he 
might  be  pursuing  his  fraudulent  designs,  he  sat  at  first 
taciturn  and  contemplative,  brooding  over  the  means  by 
which  his  purpose  could  be  best  attained.  By  degrees 
his  attention  grew  more  and  more  attracted  by  the  ob- 
jects around  him;  and  at  last  he  derived  as  much  enjoy- 
ment from  the  ride,  as  if  it  had  been  undertaken  for  the 
pleasantest  reason  in  the  world. 

'^Delightful  prospect,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Beats  the  chimley  pots^  sir,''  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
touching  his  hat. 

"I  suppose  you  have  hardly  seen  anything  but  chim- 
ney-pots and  bricks  and  mortar,  all  your  life,  Sam," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling. 

"I  worn't  always  a  boots,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
with  a  shake  of  the  head.  "  I  wos  a  wagginer's  boy, 
once." 

"When  was  that!"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"When  I  wos  first  pitched  neck  and  crop  into  the 
world  to  play  at  leap-frog  with  its  troubles,"  replied  Sam. 
"  I  wos  a  carrier's  boy  at  startin':  then  a  wagginer's,  then 
a  helper,  then  a  boots.  Now  I'm  a  gen'lm'n's  servant. 
I  shall  be  a  gen'lm'n  myself  one  of  these  days,  perhaps, 
with  a  pipe  in  my  mouth,  and  a  summer-house  in  the 
back  garden.  Who  knows?  I  shouldn't  be  surprised, 
for  one." 

"  You  are  quite  a  philosopher,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"It  runs  in  the  family,  I  believe,  sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller.  "  My  father's  worry  much  in  that  line,  now.  If 
my  mother-in-law  blows  him  up,  he  whistles.  She  flies 
in  a  passion,  and  breaks  his  pipe;  he  steps  out,  and  gets 
another.  Then  she  screams  worry  loud,  and  falls  into 
'sterics;  and  he  smokes  werry  comfortably  'till  she  comes 
to  agin.    That's  philosophy,  sir,  an't  it?" 

"A  very  good  substitute  for  it,  at  all  events,"  replied 
Mr,  Pickwick,  laughing.    "It  must  have  been  of  ^reat 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


219 


service  to  you  in  the  course  of  your  rambling  life,  Sam." 

Service,  sir/'  exclaimed  Sam.  You  may  say  that. 
Arter  I  run  away  from  the  carrier,  and  afore  I  took  up 
with  the  wagginer,  I  had  unfurnished  lodgings  for  a 
fortnight." 

Unfurnished  lodgings  ?"  said  Mr,  Pickwick. 

Yes — the  dry  arches  of  Waterloo  Bridge.  Fine  sleep- 
ing-place— within  ten  minutes  walk  of  all  the  public 
offices — only  if  there  is  any  objection  to  it,  it  is  that  the 
sitivation's  rayther  too  airy.  I  see  some  queer  sights 
there." 

''Ah,  I  suppose  you  did,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an 
air  of  considerable  interest. 

''Sights,  sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Weller,  "as  'ud  penetrate 
your  benevolent  heart,  and  come  out  at  the  other  side. 
You  don't  see  the  reg'lar  wagrants  there;  trust  'em,  they 
knows  better  than  that.  Young  beggars,  male  and 
female,  as  hasn't  made  a  rise  in  their  profession,  takes 
up  their  quarters  there  sometimes;  but  it's  generally  the 
worn-out,  starving,  houseless  creeturs  as  rolls  them- 
selves in  the  dark  corners  o'  them  lonesome  places — 
poor  creeturs  as  an't  up  to  the  twopenny  rope." 

"And  pray,  Sam,  what  is  the  twopenny  rope?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick. 

"The  twopenny  rope,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "is 
just  a  cheap  lodgin'-house,  where  the  beds  is  twopence 
a  night." 

"What  do  they  call  a  bed  a  rope  for  ?"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"Bless  your  innocence,  sir,  that  an't  it,"  replied  Sam. 
"Wen  the  lady  and  gen'lm'n  as  keeps  the  Hot-el,  first 
begun  business,  they  used  to  make  the  beds  on  the  floor; 
but  this  wouldn't  do  at  no  price,  'cos  instead  o'  taking  a 
moderate  two-penn'orth  o'  sleep,  the  lodgers  used  to  lie 
there  half  the  day.  So  now  they  has  two  ropes,  'bout 
six  foot  apart,  and  three  from  the  floor,  which  goes  right 
down  the  room;  and  the  beds  are  made  of  slips  of  coarse 
sacking,  stretched  across  'em." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "the  adwantage  o'  the  plan's 
hobvious.  At  six  o'clock  every  mornin'  they  lets  go  the 
ropes  at  one  end,  and  down  falls  all  the  lodgers.  'Con- 
sequence is  that,  being  thoroughly  waked,  they  get  up 
werry  quietly,  and  walk  away!    Beg  you  pardon,  sir, ' 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


said  Sam,  suddenly  breaking  off  in  his  loquacious  dis- 
course.   ''Is  this  Bury  St.  Edmunds?" 
''It  is/'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  coach  rattled  through  the  well-paved  streets  of  a 
handsome  little  town,  of  thriving  and  cleanly  appear- 
ance, and  stopped  before  a  large  inn  situated  in  a  wide 
open  street,  nearly  facing  the  old  abbey. 

"And  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up,  "is  the 
Angel!  We  alight  here,  Sam.  But  some  caution  is 
necessary.  Order  a  private  room,  and  do  not  mention 
my  name.    You  understand." 

"  Right  as  a  trivet,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  with  a 
wink  of  intelligence;  and  having  dragged  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's portmanteau  from  the  hind  boot,  into  w^hich  it 
had  been  hastily  thrown  when  they  joined  the  coach  at 
Eatanswill,  Mr.  Weller  disappeared  on  his  errand.  A 
private  room  was  speedily  engaged;  and  into  it  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  ushered  without  delay. 

'^Now,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "the  first  thing  to  be 
done  is  to — " 

"Order  dinner,  sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller.  "It's 
werrv  late,  sir." 

"  Ah,  so  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  his  watch. 
"You  are  right,  Sam." 

"And  if  I  might  adwise,  sir,"  added  Mr.  Weller,  "I'd 
just  have  a  good  night's  rest  arterwards,  and  not  begin 
inquiring  arter  this  here  deep  'un  'till  the  mornin'. 
There's  nothin'  so  refreshin'  as  sleep,  sir,  as  the  servant- 
girl  said  afore  she  drank  the  egg-cup-full  o'  laudanum." 

"I  think  you  are  right,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"But  I  must  first  ascertain  that  he  is  in  the  house,  and 
not  likely  to  go  away." 

"Leave  that  to  me,  sir,"  said  Sam.  "Let  me  order 
you  a  snug  little  dinner,  and  make  my  inquiries  below 
while  it's  a  getting  ready  ;  I  could  worm  ev'ry  secret  out 
o'  the  boots's  heart  in  five  minutes,  sir." 

"Do  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  :  and  Mr.  Weller  at  once 
retired. 

In  half  an  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  seated  at  a  very 
satisfactory  dinner;  and  in  three-quarters  Mr.  Weller 
returned  with  the  intelligence  that  Mr.  Charles  Fitz- 
Marshall  had  ordered  his  private  room  to  be  retained  for 
him  until  further  notice.  He  was  going  to  spend  the 
evening  at  some  private  house  in  the  neighbourhood, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


221 


had  ordered  the  boots  to  sit  up  until  his  return,  and  had 
taken  his  servant  with  him. 

"l^ow,  sir,"  argued  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  had  con- 
cluded his  report,  "if  I  can  get  a  talk  with  this  here 
servant  in  the  mornin',  he'll  tell  me  all  his  master's 
concerns." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick. 
''Bless  your  heart,  sir,  servants  always  do,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller. 

"  Oh,  ah,  I  forgot  that,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  '"Well." 

"  Then  you  can  arrange  what's  best  to  be  done,  sir, 
and  we  can  act  according." 

As  it  appeared  that  this  was  the  best  arrangement 
that  could  be  made,  it  was  finally  agreed  upon.  Mr.  Wel- 
ler, by  his  master's  permission,  retired  to  spend  the  even- 
ing in  his  ^wn  way;  and  was  shortly  afterwards  elected, 
by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  assembled  company,  into 
the  tap-room  chair,  in  which  honourable  post  he  acquitted 
himself  so  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  gentlemen- 
frequenters,  that  their  roars  of  laughter  and  approba- 
tion penetrated  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  bed-room,  and  short- 
ened the  term  of  his  natural  rest  by  at  least  three  hours. 

Early  on  the  ensuing  morning,  Mr.  Weller  was  dis- 
pelling all  the  feverish  remains  of  the  previous  even- 
ing's conviviality,  through  the  instrumentality  of  a  half- 
penny shower-bath  (having  induced  a  young  gentleman 
attached  to  the  stable-department,  by  the  offer  of  that 
coin,  to  pump  over  his  head  and  face,  until  he  was  per- 
fectly restored),  when  he  was  attracted  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  young  fellow  in  mulberry-coloured  livery,  who 
was  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  yard,  reading  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  hymn-book,  with  an  air  of  deep  abstrac- 
tion, but  who  occasionally  stole  a  glance  at  the  indi- 
vidual under  the  pump,  as  if  he  took  some  interest  in 
his  proceedings,  nevertheless. 

''You're  a  rum  'un  to  look  at,  you  are!  "  thought  Mr. 
Weller,  the  first  time  his  eyes  encountered  the  glance  of 
the  stranger  in  the  mulberry-coloured  suit:  who  had  a 
large,  sallow,  u^lv  face,  very  sunken  eyes,  and  a  gigantic 
head,  from  which  depended  a  quantity  of  lank  black 
hair.  "You're  a  rum  'un!"  thought  Mr.  Weller;  and 
thinking  this,  he  went  on  washing  himself,  and  thought 
no  more  about  him. 

Still  the  man  kept  glancing  from  [his  hymn-book  to 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Sam,  and  from  Sam  to  his  hymn-book,  as  if  he  wanted 
to  open  a  conversation.    So  at  last,  Sam,  by  way  of  giv- 
ing nim  an  opportunity,  said,  with  a  familiar  nod— 
How  are  you,  governor?" 

'^I  am  happy  to  say,  I  am  pretty  well,  sir,"  said  the 
man,  speaking  with  great  deliberation,  and  closing  the 
book.        hope  you  are  the  same,  sir?" 

Why,  if  I  felt  less  like  a  walking  brandy-bottle,  I 
shouldn't  be  quite  so  sta^gery  this  mornin',"  replied  Sam. 

Are  you  stoppin'  in  this  house,  old  'un?  " 

The  mulberry  man  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

' '  Ho  w  was  it  you  worn't  one  of  us,  last  night  ?  "  inquired 
Sam,  scrubbing  his  face  with  the  towel.  ''You  seem 
one  of  the  jolly  sort — looks  as  conwivial  as  a  live  trout 
in  a  lime-basket,"  added  Mr.  Weller,  in  an  under  tone. 

''I  was  out  last  night  with  my  master,"  Replied  the 
stranger. 

''What's  his  name?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  colouring 
up  very  red  with  sudden  excitement,  and  the  friction  of 
the  towel  combined. 

"  Fitz-Marshall,"  said  the  mulberry  man. 

"  Give  us  your  hand,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  advancing;  "  I 
should  like  to  know  you.  I  like  your  appearance,  old 
fellow." 

"  Well,  that  is  very  strange,"  said  the  mulberry  man, 
with  great  simplicity  of  manner.  "I  like  your's  so 
much,  that  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  from  the  very  first 
moment  I  saw  you  under  the  pump." 

"Did  you,  though?" 

"  Upon  my  word.    Now,  isn't  that  curious?  " 

"Worry  sing'ler,"  said  Sam,  inwardly  congratulating 
himself  upon  the  softness  of  the  stranger.  "What's 
your  name,  my  patriarch?" 

"Job." 

"  And  a  werry  good  name  it  is — only  one  I  know,  that 
ain't  got  a  nickname  to  it.    What's  the  other  name?" 

"  Trotter,"  said  the  stranger.    "  What's  yours?  " 

Sam  bore  in  mind  his  master's  caution,  and  replied: 

"My  name's  Walker;  my  master's  name's  Wilkins. 
Will  you  take  a  drop  o'  somethin'  this  mornin',  Mr. 
Trotter?" 

Mr.  Trotter  acquiesced  in  this  agreeable  proposal;  and 
having  deposited  his  book  in  his  coat-pocket,  accom- 
panied Mr.  Weller  to  the  tap,  where  they  were  soon  oc- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  223 


cupied  in  discussing  an  exhilarating  compound,  formed 
by  mixing  together,  in  a  pewter  vessel,  certain  quan- 
tities of  British  Hollands,  and  the  fragrant  essence  of 
the  clove. 

"  And  what  sort  of  a  place  have  you  got?"  inquired 
Sam,  as  he  filled  his  companion's  glass,  for  the  second 
time. 

"  Bad,"  said  Job,  smacking  his  lips,    very  bad." 
''You  don't  mean  that,"  said  Sam. 
''I  do,  indeed.    Worse  than  that,  my  master  is  going 
to  be  married." 
''No." 

"Yes;  and  worse  than  that,  too,  he's  going  to  run 
away  with  an  immense  rich  heiress,  from  boarding- 
school." 

"  What  a  dragon! "  said  Sam,  refilling  his  companion's 
glass.  "It's  some  boarding-school  in  this  town,  I  sup- 
pose, an't  it?" 

Now,  although  this  question  was  put  in  the  most  care- 
less tone  imaginable,  Mr.  Job  Trotter  plainly  showed, 
by  gestures,  that  he  perceived  his  new  friend's  anxiety 
to  draw  forth  an  answer  to  it.  He  emptied  his  glass, 
looked  mysteriously  at  his  companion,  winked  both  of 
his  small  eyes,  one  after  the  other,  and  finally  made  a 
motion  with  his  arm,  as  if  he  were  working  an  imagin- 
ary pump-handle;  thereby  intimating  that  he  (Mr.  Trot- 
ter) considered  himself  as  undergoing  the  process  of 
being  pumped,  by  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

"No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  in  conclusion,  "that's  not 
to  be  told  to  everybody.  That  is  a  secret — a  great  secret, 
Mr.  Walker. 

As  the  mulberry  man  said  this,  he  turned  his  glass 
upside  down,  as  a  means  of  reminding  his  companion 
that  he  had  nothing  left  wherewith  to  slake  his  thirst. 
Sam  observed  the  hint;  and  feeling  the  delicate  manner 
in  which  it  was  conveyed,  ordered  the  pewter  vessel  to 
be  refilled,  whereat  the  small  eyes  of  the  mulberry  man 
glistened. 

"  And  so  it's  a  secret,"  said  Sam. 

"I  should  rather  suspect  it  was,"  said  the  mulberry 
man,  sipping  his  liquor,  with  a  complacent  face. 

"I  suppose  your  mas'r's  worry  rich?"  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Trotter  smiled,  and  holding  his  glass  in  his  left 
hand,  gave  four  distinct  slaps  on  the  pocket  of  his  mul- 


224  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


berry  indescribables  with  his  right,  as  if  to  intimate  that 
his  master  might  have  done  the  same  without  alarming 
anybody  much,  by  the  chinking  of  coin. 

"Ahi''  said  Sam,  '^that's  the  game,  is  it?" 

The  mulberry  man  nodded  significantly. 

''Well,  and  don't  you  think,  old  feller,"  remonstrated 
Mr.  Weller,  ''that  if  you  let  your  master  take  in  this 
young  lady,  you're  a  precious  rascal?" 

"I  know  that,"  said  Job  Trotter,  turning  upon  his 
companion  a  countenance  of  deep  contrition,  and  groan- 
ing slightly.  "I  know  that  and  that's  what  it  is  that 
prays  upon  my  mind.    But  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"Do!"  said  Sam;  "di-vulge  to  the  missis,  and  give  up 
your  master." 

"Who'd  believe  me?"  replied  Job  Trotter.  "The 
young  lady's  considered  the  very  picture  of  innocence 
and  discretion.  She'd  deny  it,  and  so  would  my  master. 
Who'd  believe  me?  I  should  lose  my  place,  and  get  in- 
dicted for  a  conspiracy,  or  some  such  thing;  that's  all  I 
should  take  by  my  motion." 

"There's  somthin'  in  that,"  said  Sam,  ruminating; 
"there's  somethin'  in  that." 

"If  I  knew  any  respectable  gentleman  that  would 
take  the  matter  up,"  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  "I  might 
have  some  hope  of  preventing  the  elopement;  but  there's 
the  same  difficulty,  Mr.  Walker,  just  the  same.  I  know 
no  gentleman  in  this  strange  place;  and  ten  to  one  if  I 
did,  whether  he  would  believe  my  story." 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  Sam,  suddenly  jumping  up, 
and  grasping  the  mulberry  man  by  the  arm.  "My 
mas'r's  the  man  you  want,  I  see."  And  after  a  slight 
resistance  on  the  part  of  Job  Trotter,  Sam  led  his  newly 
found  friend  to  the  apartment  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  whom 
he  presented  him,  together  with  a  brief  summary  of  the 
dialogue  we  have  just  repeated. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  betray  my  master,  sir,"  said  Job 
Trotter,  applying  to  his  eyes  a  pink  checked  pocket 
handkerchief  about  six  inches  square. 

"  The  feeling  does  you  a  great  deal  of  honour,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick;  "but  it  is  your  duty,  nevertheless." 

"I  know  it  is  my  duty,  sir,"  replied  Job,  with  great 
emotion.  "  We  should  all  try  to  discharge  our  duty, 
sir;  and  I  humbly  endeavour  to  discharge  mine,  sir;  but 
it  is  a  hard  trial  to  betray  a  master,  sir,  whose  clothes 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  225 

you  wear,  and  whose  bread  you  eat,  even  though  he  is 
a  scoundrel,  sir/' 

^^You  are  a  very  good  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
much  affected,  "  an  honest  fellow." 

''Come,  come,"  interposed  Sam,  who  had  witnessed 
Mr.  Trotter's  tears  with  considerable  impatience,  ' '  blow 
this  here  water-cart  business.  It  won't  do  no  good,  this 
won't." 

^  "  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  reproachfully,  I  am  sorry 
to  find  that  you  have  so  little  respect  for  this  young 
man's  feelings." 

"  His  feelins  is  all  werry  well,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller; 
* '  and  as  they're  so  werry  fine,  and  it's  a  pity  he  should 
loose  'em,  I  think  he'd  better  keep  'em  in  his  own  buz- 
zum,  than  let  'em  ewaporate  in  hot  water,  'specially  as 
they  do  no  good.  Tears  never  yet  wound  up  a  clock,  or 
worked  a  steam  ingen'.  The  next  time  you  go  out  to  a 
smoking  party,  young  feller,  fill  your  pipe  with  that  'ere 
reflection,  and  for  the  present,  just  put  that  bit  of  pink 
gingham  into  your  pocket.  T'an't  so  handsome  that  you 
need  keep  waving  it  about,  as  if  you  was  a  tight-rope 
dancer." 

"  My  man  is  in  the  right,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  accost- 
ing Job,  "  although  his  mode  of  expressing  his  opinion 
is  somewhat  homely,  and  occasionally  incomprehen- 
sible." 

''He  is,  sir,  very  right,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  "and  I  will 
give  way  no  longer." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr  Pickwick.  "Nowwhere,  is 
this  boarding-school  ?" 

"It  is  a  large,  old,  red-brick  house,  just  outside  the 
town,  sir,"  replied  Job  Trotter. 

"And  when,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  When  is  this  vil- 
lainous design  to  be  carried  into  execution — when  is  this 
elopement  to  take  place  ?" 

"To-night,  sir,"  replied  Job. 

"  To-night  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  This  vefy  night,  sir,"  replied  Job  Trotter.  "  That  is 
what  alarms  me  so  very  much." 

"  Instant  measures  must  betaken,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  I  will  seethe  lady  who  keeps  the  establishment  im- 
mediately," 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Job,  "  but  tlmt  coui-se  of 
proceeding  will  never  do." 

1 


«««  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

*    Why  not  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
My  master,  sir,  is  a  very  artful  man." 
I  know  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
And  so  wound  himself  around  the  old  lady's  heart, 
sir,"  resumed  Job,  '^that  she  would  believe  nothing  to 
his  prejudice,  if  you  went  down  on  your  bare  knees,  and 
swore  it:  especially  as  you  have  no  proof  but  the  word 
of  a  servant,  who,  for  anything  she  knows  (and  my  mas- 
ter would  be  sure  to  say  so),  was  discharged  for  some 
fault,  and  does  this  in  revenge." 

"  What  had  better  be  done,  then  ? "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Nothing  but  taking  him  in  the  very  fact  of  eloping 
will  convince  the  old  lady,  sir,"  replied  Job. 

''All  them  old  cats  will  run  their  heads  against  mile- 
stones," observed  Mr.  Weller  in  a  parenthesis. 

''But  this  taking  him  in  the  very  act  of  elopement 
would  be  a  very  difficult  thing  to  accomplish,  I  fear," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  after  a  few 
moments'  reflection.  "I  think  it  might  be  very  easily 
done." 

"  How  ?"  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  inquiry. 

"Why,"  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  "my  master  and  I,  bein^ 
in  the  confidence  of  the  two  servants,  will  be  secreted 
in  the  kitchen  at  ten  o'clock.  When  the  family  have  re- 
tired to  rest,  we  shall  come  out  of  the  kitchen,  and  the 
young  lady  out  of  her  bed-room.  A  post-chaise  will  be 
waiting,  and  away  we  go. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Well,  sir,  I  have  been  thinking  that  if  you  were  in 
wating  in  the  garden  behind,  alone — " 

"  Alone,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  Why  alone  ?  " 

"  I  thought  it  very  natural,"  replied  Job,  "  that  the  old 
lady  wouldn't  like  such  an  unpleasant  discovery  to  be 
made  before  more  persons  than  can  be  helped.  The 
young  lady  too,  sir — consider  her  feelings." 

"You  are  very  right,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "The 
consideration  evinces  your  delicacy  of  feeling.  Go  on; 
you  are  very  right." 

"Well,  sir,  I  was  thinking  that  if  you  were  waiting  in 
the  back  garden  alone,  and  I  was  to  let  you  in,  at  the 
door  which  opens  into  it,  from  the  end  of  the  passage,  at 
exactly  half -past  eleven  o'clock,  you  would  be  just  mthe 
very  moment  of  time,  to  assist  me  in  frustrating  the  4§- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  227 

signs  of  this  bad  man,  by  whom  I  have  been  unfortu- 
nately ensnared."    Here  Mr.  Trotter  sighed  deeply. 

''Don't  distress  yourself  on  that  account,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick, ''  if  he  had  one  grain  of  the  delicacy  of  feeling 
which  distinguishes  jou,  humble  as  your  station  is,  I 
should  have  some  hopes  of  him." 

Job  Trotter  l^owed  low;  and  in  spite  of  Mr.  Weller's 
previous  remonstrance,  the  tears  again  rose  to  his  eyes. 

•'  I  never  see  such  a  feller,"  said  Sam.  ''  Blessed  if  I 
don't  tjaink  he's  got  a  main  in  his  head  as  is  always 
turned  on. ' 

^'Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  severity. 
''  Hold  your  tongue." 

''Worry  well,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  don't  like  this  plan,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  deep 
meditation.  "  Why  cannot  I  communicate  with  the 
young  lady's  friends?" 

"  Because  they  live  one  hundred  miles  from  here,  sir," 
responded  Job  Trotter. 

"That's  a  clincher,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  aside. 

"Then  this  garden,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick.  *^How 
am  I  to  get  into  it?" 

"  The  wall  is  very  low,  sir,  and  your  servant  will  give 
you  a  leg  up." 

"  My  servant  will  give  me  a  le^  up,"  repeated  Mr. 
Pickwick,  mechanically.  "  You  will  be  sure  to  be  near 
this  door  that  you  speak  of?" 

"You  cannot  mistake  it,  sir;  it's  the  only  one  that 
opens  into  the  garden.  Tap  at  it  when  you  hear  the 
clock  strike,  and  I  will  open  it  instantly." 

"  I  don't  like  the  plan,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "but  as  I 
see  no  other,  and  as  the  happiness  of  this  voung  lady's 
whole  life  is  at  stake,  I  adopt  it.  I  shall  be  sure  to  be 
there." 

Thus,  for  the  second  time,  did  Mr.  Pickwick's  innate 

food  feeling  involve  him  in  an  enterprise,  from  which 
e  would  most  willingly  have  stood  aloof. 
"What  is  the  name  of  the  house?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Westgate  House,  sir.  You  turn  a  little  to  the  right 
when  you  get  to  the  end  of  the  town;  it  stands  by  itself, 
some  little  distance  off  the  high  road,  with  the  name  on 
a  brass-plate  on  the  gate." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  I  observed  it  once 

I 


228  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

•before,  when  I  was  in  this  town.  You  may  depend  upon 
me." 

Mr.  Trotter  made  another  bow,  and  turned  to  depart, 
when  Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  a  guinea  into  his  hand. 

''You're  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  I  ad- 
mire your  goodness  of  heart.  No  thanks.  Remember — 
eleven  o'clock." 

''  There  is  no  fear  of  my  forgetting  it,  sir,"  replied  Job 
Trotter.  With  these  words  he  left  the  room,  followed 
by  Sam. 

"I  say,"  said  the  latter,  "not  a  bad  notion  that  'ere 
crying.  I'd  cry  like  a  rain-water  spout  in  a  shower,  on 
such  good  terms.    How  do  you  do  it?" 

"It  comes  from  the  heart,  Mr.  Walker/'  replied  Job 
solemnly.    "  Good  morning,  sir." 

"  You're  a  soft  customer,  you  are — we've  got  it  all  out 
o'  you,  anyhow,"  thought  Mr.  Weller,  as  Job  walked 
away. 

We  cannot  state  the  precise  nature  of  the  thoughts 
which  passed  through  Mr.  Trotter's  mind,  because  we 
don't  know  what  they  were. 

The  day  wore  on,  evening  came,  and  at  a  little  before 
ten  o'clock  Sam  Weller  reported  that  Mr.  Jingle  and 
Job  had  gone  out  together,  that  their  luggage  was 
packed  up,  and  that  they  had  ordered  a  chaise.  The 
plot  was  evidently  in  execution,  as  Mr.  Trotter  had 
foretold. 

Half -past  ten  o'clock  arrived,  and  it  was  time  for  Mr. 
Pickwick  to  issue  forth  on  his  delicate  errand.  Resist- 
ing Sam's  tender  of  his  great-coat,  in  order  that  he 
might  have  no  incumbrance  in  scaling  the  wall,  he  set 
forth,  followed  by  his  attendant. 

There  was  a  bright  moon,  but  it  was  behind  the  clouds. 
It  was  a  fine,  dry  night,  but  it  was  most  uncommonly 
dark.  Paths,  hedges,  fields,  houses,  and  trees,  were  en- 
veloped in  one  deep  shade.  The  atmosphere  was  hot  and 
sultry,  the  summer  lightning  quivered  faintly  on  the 
verge  of  the  horizon,  and  was  the  only  sight  that  varied 
the  dull  gloom  in  which  everything  was  wrapped — soupd 
there  was  none,  except  the  distant  barking  of  some 
restless  house-dog. 

They  found  the  house,  read  the  brass-plate,  walked 
round  the  wall,  and  stopped  at  that  portion  of  it  which 
divided  them  from  the  bottom  of  the  garden. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


229 


You  will  return  to  the  inn,  Sam,  when  you  have  as- 
sisted me  over,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  Werry  well,  sir." 
''And  you  will  sit  up  'till  I  return." 
''Cert'nly,  sir." 

''Take  hold  of  my  leg;  and,  when  I  say  'Over,'  raise 
me  gently." 

"  Ail  right,  sir." 

Having  settled  these  preliminaries,  Mr.  Pickwick 
grasped  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  gave  the  word  "  Over,'' 
which  was  very  literally  obeyed.  Whether  his  bodj^ 
partook  in  some  degree  of  the  elasticity  of  his  mind,  or 
whether  Mr.  Weller's  notions  of  a  gentle  push  were  of  a 
somewhat  rougher  description  than  Mr.  Pickwick's,  the 
immediate  effect  of  his  assistance  was  to  jerk  tha.t  im-^ 
mortal  gentleman  completely  over  the  wall  on  to  the 
bed  beneath,  where,  after  (Crushing  three  gooseberry 
bushes  and  a  rose-tree,  he  finally  alighted  at  full  length. 

"  You  ha'n't  hurt  yourself,  I  hope,  sir,"  said  Sam,  in  a 
loud  whisper,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  from  the  surprise 
consequent  upon  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  his 
master. 

"I  have  not  hurt  myself,  Sam,  certainly,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  from  the  other  side  of  the  wall,"  "but  I  rather 
think  that  you  have  hurt  me." 

"  I  have  not,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"Never  mind," said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising,  "it's  nothing 
but  a  few  scratches.  Go  away,  or  we  shall  be  over- 
heard." 

"Good-bye,  sir." 

"Good-bye." 

With  stealthy  steps  Sam  Weller  departed,  leaving  Mr. 
Pickwick  alone  in  the  garden. 

Lights  occasionally  appeared  in  the  different  windows 
of  the  house,  or  glanced  from  the  staircases,  as  if  the  in- 
mates were  retiring  to  rest.  Not  caring  to  go  too  near 
the  door  until  the  appointed  time,  Mr.  Pickwick  crouched 
into  an  angle  of  the  wall  and  waited  its  arrival. 

It  was  a  situation  which  might  well  have  depressed 
the  spirits  of  many  a  man.  Mr.  Pickwick,  however, 
felt  neither  depression  nor  misgiving.  He  know  that 
his  purpose  was  in  the  main  a  good  one,  and  he  placed 
implicit  reliance  on  the  high-minded  Job.  It  was  dull, 
certainly;  not  to  say,  dreary;  but  a  contemplative  man 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

can  always  empLoy  himself  in  meditation.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  meditated  himself  into  a  doze,  when  he  was 
roused  by  the  chimes  of  the  neighbouring  church  ring- 
ing out  the  hour — half -past  eleven. 

''That  is  the  time,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  getting 
cautiously  on  his  feet.  He  looked  up  at  the  house.  The 
lights  had  disappea^red,  and  the  shutters  were  closed — 
all  in  bed,  no  doubt.  He  walked  on  tip-toe  to  the  door, 
and  gave  a  gentle  tap.  Two  or  three  minutes  passing 
without  any  reply,  he  gave  another  tap  rather  louder, 
and  then  another  ra,ther  louder  than  that. 

At  length  the  sound  of  feet  was  audible  upon  the 
stairs,  and  then  the  light  of  a  candle  shone  through  the 
key-hole  of  the  door.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  un- 
chaining and  unbolting,  and  the  door  was  slowly  opened. 

Now  the  door  opened  outwards:  and  as  the  door 
opened  wider  and  wider,  'Mr.  Pickwick  receded  behind 
it,  more  and  more.  What  was  his  astonishment,  when 
he  just  peeped  out  by  way  of  caution,  to  see  that  the 
person  who  had  opened  it  was — not  Job  Trotter,  but  a 
servant-girl  with  a  candle  in  her  hand!  Mr.  Pickwick 
drew  in  his  head  again,  with  the  swiftness  displayed  by 
that  admirable  melo-dramatic  performer,  Punch,  when 
he  lies  in  wait  for  the  flat-headed  comedian  with  the  tin 
box  of  music. 

"'It  must  have  been  the  cat,  Sarah,"  said  the  girl,  ad- 
dressing herself  to  some  one  in  the  house.  "  Puss,  puss, 
puss — tit,  tit,  tit." 

But  no  animal  being  decoyed  by  these  blandishments, 
the  girl  slowly  closed  the  door,  aiid  refastened  it;  leaving 
Mr.  Pickwick  drawn  up  straight  against  the  wall. 

^'This  is  very  curious,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''They 
are  sitting  up  beyond  their  usual  hour,  I  suppose.  Ex- 
tremely unfortunate,  that  they  should  have  chosen  this  ^ 
night,  of  all  others,  for  such  a  purpose — exceedingly." 
And,  vv^ith  these  thoughts,  Mr.  Pickwick  cautiously  re- 
tired to  the  angle  of  the  wall  in  which  he  had  been  be- 
fore ensconced;  waiting  until  such  time  as  he  might 
deem  it  safe  to  repeat  the  signal. 

He  had  not  been  here  five  minutes,  when  a  vivid  flash 
of  lightning  was  followed  by  a  loud  peal  of  thunder  that 
crashed  and  rolled  away  in  the  distance  with  terrific 
noise — then  came  another  flash  of  lightning,  brighter 
than  the  other,  and  a  second  peal  or  thunder  louder 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


2S1 


than  the  first;  and  then  down  came  the  rain,  with  a 
force  and  fury  that  swept  everything  before  it. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  perfectly  aware  that  a  tree  is  a  very 
dangerous  neighbour  in  a  thunder-storm.  He  had  a 
tree  on  his  right,  a  tree  on  his  left,  a  third  before  him, 
and  a  fourth  behind.  If  he  remained  where  he  was  he 
might  fail  the  victim  of  an  accident;  if  he  showed  him- 
self in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  he  might  be  consigned 
io  a  constable — once  or  twice  he  had  tried  to  scale  tlie 
wall,  but  having  no  other  legs  this  time,  than  those 
Vv  hich  Nature  had  furnished  him,  the  only  effort  of  his 
struggles  was  to  inflict  a  variety  of  very  unpleasant 
gratings  on  his  knees  and  shins,  and  to  throw  him  into 
a  state  of  the  most  profuse  perspiration. 

*'What  a  dreadful  situation!''  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
pausing  to  wipe  his  brow  after  this  exercise.  He  looked 
up  at  the  house — all  was  dark.  They  must  be  gone  to 
bed  now.    He  would  try  the  signal  again. 

He  walked  on  tip-toe  across  the  moist  gravel  and  tapped 
at  the  door.  He  held  his  breath,  and  listened  at  the  key- 
hole. No  reply:  very  odd.  Another  knock.  He  listened 
again.  There  was  a  low  whispering  inside,  and  then  a 
voice  cried — 

Who's  there?" 

'^That's  not  Job,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily  draw- 
ing himself  straight  up  against  the  wall  again.  ''It's  a 
woman." 

He  had  scarcely  had  time  to  form  this  conclusion, 
when  a  window  above  stairs  was  thrown  up,  and  three 
or  four  female  voices  repeated  the  query — ''Who's  there?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  dared  not  move  nand  or  foot.  It  was 
clear  that  the  whole  establishment  was  roused.  He 
made  up  his  mind  to  remain  where  he  was  until  the 
alarm  had  subsided;  and  then  by  a  supernatural  effort 
to  get  over  the  wall,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

Like  all  Mr.  Pickwick's  determinations,  this  was  the 
best  that  could  be  made  under  the  circumstances;  but, 
unfortunately,  it  was  founded  upon  the  assumption  that 
they  would  not  venture  to  open  the  door  again.  What 
was  his  discomfiture,  when  he  heard  the  chain  and  bolts 
withdrawn,  and  saw  the  door  slowly  opening,  wider  and 
wider  !  He  retreated  into  the  corner,  step  by  step  ;  but 
do  what  he  would,  the  interposition  of  his  own  person 
prevented  its  being  opened  to  it3  utmost  width. 


232  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

*^  Who's  there? "  screamed  a  numerous  chorus  of  treble 
voices  from  the  stair-case  inside,  consisting  of  the  spin- 
ster lady  of  the  establishment,  three  teachers,  five  female 
servants,  and  thirty  boarders,  all  half -dressed,  and  in  a 
forest  of  curl-papers. 

Of  course  Mr.  Pickwick  didn't  say  who  was  there:  and 
then  the  burden  of  the  chorus  changed  into — ^'Lor'  !  I 
am  so  frightened." 

^^Cook,^'  said  the  lady  abbess,  who  took  care  to  be  on 
the  top  stair,  the  very  last  of  the  group — ''Cook,  why 
don't  you  go  a  little  way  into  the  garden?" 

''Please  ma'am,  I  don't  like,"  responded  the  cook. 

"Lor',  what  a  stupid  thing  that  cook  is!"  said  the 
thirty  boarders. 

"  Cook,"  said  the  lady  abbess,  with  great  dignity; 
"don't  ansv/er  me,  if  you  please.  I  insist  upon  your 
looking  into  the  garden  immediately." 

Here  the  cook  began  to  cry,  and  the  housemaid  said  it 
was  "a  shame!"  for  which  partisanship  she  received  a 
month's  warning  on  the  spot. 

"  Do  you  hear,  cook?"  said  the  lady  abbess,  stamping 
her  foot,  impatiently. 

"Don't  you  hear  your  missis,  cook?"  said  the  three 
teachers. 

"  What  an  impudent  thing  that  cook  is! "  said  the  thirty 
boarders. 

The  unfortunate  cook,  thus  strongly  urged,  advanced 
a  step  or  two,  and  holding  her  candle  just  where  it  pre- 
vented her  from  seeing  anything  at  all,  declared  there 
was  nothing  there,  and  it  must  have  been  the  wind.  The 
door  was  just  going  to  be  closed  in  consequence,  when 
an  inquisitive  boarder,  who  had  been  peeping  between 
the  hinges,  set  up  a  fearful  screaming,  which  called  back 
the  cook  and  the  housemaid,  and  all  the  more  adventur- 
ous in  no  time. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Miss  Smithers?"  said  the 
lady  abbess,  as  the  aforesaid  Miss  Smithers  proceeded 
to  go  into  hysterics  of  four  young  lady  power. 

"Lor',  Miss  Smithers,  dear,"  said  the  other  nine-and- 
twenty  boarders. 

"  Oh,  the  man— the  man — behind  the  door!"  screamed 
Miss  Smithers. 

The  lady  abbess  no  sooner  heard  this  appalling  cry, 
than  she  retreated  to  her  own  bed-room,  double-locked 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


233 


the  door,  and  fainted  away  comfortably.  The  boarders, 
and  the  teachers,  and  the  servants,  fell  back  upon  the 
stairs,  and  upon  each  other;  and  never  was  such  a  scream- 
ing, and  fainting,  and  struggling  beheld.  In  the  midst 
of  the  tumult,  Mr.  Pickwick  emerged  from  his  conceal- 
ment, and  presented  himself  amongst  them. 

''Ladies — dear  ladies,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  he  says  w^e're  dear,"  cried  the  oldest  and  ugliest 
teacher.      Oh,  the  wretch! " 

''Ladies,"  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  rendered  desperate  by 
the  danger  of  his  situation.  "  Hear  me.  I  am  no  rob- 
ber.   I  want  the  lady  of  the  house." 

''Oh,  what  a  ferocious  monster!"  screamed  another 
teacher.    "  He  wants  Miss  Tomkins." 

Here  there  was  a  general  scream. 

"  Ring  the  alarm  bell,  somebody  ! "  cried  a  dozen 
voices. 

"  Don't— don't,"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Look  at 
me.  Do  I  look  like  a  robber  !  My  dear  ladies — you  may 
bind  me  hand  and  leg,  or  lock  me  up  in  a  closet,  if 
you  like.  Only  hear  what  I  have  got  to  say— only  hear 
me." 

"  How  did  you  come  in  our  garden  ?  "  faltered  the 
housemaid. 

"  Call  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  I'll  tell  her  every- 
thing," said  Mr.  Pickwick,  exerting  his  lungs  to  the 
utmost  pitch.  "Call  her— only  be  quiet,  and  call  her, 
and  you  shall  hear  everything." 

It  might  have  been  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearance,  or 
it  might  have  been  his  manner,  or  it  might  have  been 
the  temptation — so  irresistible  to  a  female  mind— of 
hearing  something  at  present  enveloped  in  mystery, 
that  reduced  the  more  reasonable  portion  of  the  estab- 
lishment (some  four  individuals)  to  a  state  of  compar- 
ative quiet.  By  them  it  was  proposed,  as  a  test  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's  sincerity,  that  he  should  immediately  sub- 
mit to  personal  restraint;  and  that  gentleman  having 
consented  to  hold  a  conference  with  Miss  Tomkins, 
from  the  interior  of  a  closet  in  which  the  day  boarders 
hung  their  bonnets  and  sandwich-bags,  he  at  once 
stepped  into  it,  of  his  own  accord,  and  was  securely 
locked  in.  This  revived  the  others;  and  Miss  Tomkins 
having  been  brought-to,  and  brought  down,  the  confer- 
ence began. 


234  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''What  did  you  do  in  my  garden,  man  ?"  said  Miss 
Tomkins,  in  a  faint  voice. 

I  came  to  warn  you  that  one  of  your  young  ladies 
was  going  to  elope  to-night/'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
from  the  interior  of  the  closet. 

''Elope  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Tomkins,  the  three  teach- 
ers, the  thirty  boarders,  and  the  five  servants.  "  Who 
with  ?  " 

"Your  friend,  Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall." 

"  My  friend  !    I  don't  know  any  such  person." 

"Well;  Mr.  Jingle,  then." 

"  I  never  heard  the  name  in  my  life." 

"Then  I  have  been  deceived  and  deluded,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick.  "  I  have  been  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy. 
Send  to  the  Angel,  my  dear  ma'am,  if  you  don't  believe 
me.  Send  to  the  Angel  for  Mr.  Pickwick's  man-servant, 
I  implore  you,  ma'am." 

'' He  must  be  respectable — he  keeps  a  man-servant," 
said  Miss  Tomkins  to  the  writing  and  ciphering  gover- 
ness. 

"It's  my  opinion.  Miss  Tomkins,"  said  the  writing 
and  ciphering  governess,  "that  this  man-servant  keeps 
him.  I  think  he's  a  madman,  Miss  Tomkins,  and  the 
other's  his  keeper. 

"  I  think  you  are  very  right,  Miss  Gwynn,"  responded 
Miss  Tomkins.  "  Let  two  of  the  servants  repair  to  the 
Angel,  and  let  the  others  remain  here  to  protect  us." 

So  two  of  the  servants  were  despatched  to  the  Angel 
in  search  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller;  and  the  remaining 
thr^e  stopped  behind  to  protect  Miss  Tomkins,  and  the 
three  teachers,  and  the  thirty  boarders.  And  Mr.  Pick- 
wick sat  down  in  the  closet,  beneath  a  grove  of  sand- 
wich bags,  and  awaited  the  return  of  the  messengers, 
v/ith  an  the  philosophy  and  fortitude  he  could  summon 
to  his  aid. 

An  hour  and  a  half  elapsed  before  they  came  back, 
and  when  they  did  come,  Mr.  Pickwick  recognized,  in 
addition  to  the  voice  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  two  other 
voices,  the  tones  of  which  struck  familiarly  on  his  ear; 
but  whose  they  were,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him 
call  to  mind. 

A  very  brief  conversation  ensued.  The  door  was  un- 
locked. Mr.  Pickwick  stepped  out  of  the  closet,  and 
found  himself  in  the   presence  of  the  whole  establish- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 

ment  of  Westgate  House,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  and — old 
Wardle,  and  his  destined  son-in-law,  Mr.  Trundle  ! 

''My  dear  friend/' said  Mr.  Pickwick,  running  for- 
ward and  grasping  Wardle's  hand,  ''my  dear  friend, 
pray,  for  Heaven  s  sake,  explain  to  this  lady  the  unfor- 
tunate and  dreadful  situation  in  which  I  am  placed. 
You  must  have  heard  it  from  my  servant;  say,  at  all 
events,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I  am  neither  a  robber  nor 
a  madman." 

"  I  have  said  so,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  said  so  al- 
ready," replied  Mr.  Wardle,  shaking  the  right  hand  of 
his  friend,  while  Mr.  Trundle  shook  the  left. 

"And  whoever  says,  or  has  said,  he  is,"  interposed 
Mr.  Weller,  stepping  forward,  "says  that  which  is  not 
the  truth,  but  so  far  from  it,  on  the  contrairy,  quite  the 
rewerse.  And  if  there's  any  number  o'  men  on  these 
here  premises  as  has  said  so,  I  shall  be  worry  happy  to 
give  'em  all  a  worry  convincing  proof  o'  their  being 
mistaken,  in  this  here  worry  room,  if  these  worry  re- 
spectable ladies  '11  have  the  goodness  to  retire  and  order 
*em  up,  one  at  a  time."  Having  delivered  this  defiance 
with  great  volubility,  Mr.  Weller  struck  his  open  palm 
emphatically  with  his  clenched  fist,  and  winked  pleas- 
antly on  Miss  Tomkins:  the  intensity  of  whose  horror 
at  his  supposing  it  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that 
there  could  be  any  men  on  the  premises  of  Westgate 
House  Establishment  for  Young  Ladies,  it  is  impossible 
to  describe. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  explanation  having  already  been  par- 
tially made,  was  soon  concluded.  But  neither  in  the 
course  of  his  walk  home  with  his  friends,  nor  after- 
wards when  seated  before  a  blazing  fire  at  the  supper 
he  so  much  needed,  could  a  single  observation  be  drawn 
from  him.  He  seemed  bewildered  and  amazed.  Once, 
and  only  once,  he  turned  round  to  Mr.  Wardle,  and  said: 

"  How  did  you  come  here?" 

"  Trundle  and  I  came  down  here  for  some  good  shoot- 
ing on  the  first,"  replied  Wardle.  "  We  arrived  to-night, 
and  were  astonished  to  hear  from  your  servant  that  you 
were  here  too.  But  I  am  glad  you  are,"  said  the  old  fel- 
low, slapping  him  on  the  back.  "I  am  glad  you  are. 
We  shall  have  a  jovial  party  on  the  first,  and  we'll  give 
Winkle  another  chance — eh,  old  boy?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  made  no  reply;  he  did  not  even  ask 


236  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

after  his  friends  at  Dingley  Dell,  and  shortly  afterwards 
retired  for  the  night,  desiring  Sam  to  fetch  his  candle 
when  he  rung. 

''Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  out  from  under 
the  bed-clothes. 

''Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and  Mr.  Weller  snuffed  the 
candle. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  again,  as  if  with  a  desper- 
ate effort. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  once  more. 

'^  Where  is  that  Trotter?  ' 

"Job,  sir?" 

"Yes." 

"  Gone,  sir." 

"With  his  master,  I  suppose?" 

"Friend  or  master,  or  whatever  he  is,  he's  gone  with 
him,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.    "There's  a  pair  on  'em,  sir." 

"Jingle  suspected  my  design,  and  set  that  fellow  on 
you  with  this  story,  I  suppose?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
half  choking. 

"Just  that,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  It  was  all  false,  of  course?" 

"All,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  Reg'lar  do,  sir;  artful 
dodge." 

"I  don't  think  he'll  escape  us  quite  so  easily  the  next 
time,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  I  don't  think  he  will,  sir." 

"  Whenever  I  meet  that  Jingle  again,  wherever  it  is," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  raising  himself  in  bed,  and  indent- 
ing his  pillow  with  a  tremendous  blow,  "  I'll  inflict  per- 
sonal chastisement  on  him,  in  addition  to  the  exposure 
he  so  richly  merits.  I  will,  or  my  name  is  not  Pickwick." 

"Andwenever  I  catches  hold  o'  that  there  melan- 
choly chap  with  the  black  hair,"  said  Sam,  "if  I  don't 
bring  some  real  water  into  his  eyes,  for  once  in  a  way, 
my  name  an't  Weller,    Good  night,  sir!" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


237 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SHOWING  THAT  AN  ATTACK  OF  RHEUMATISM,  IN  SOME  CASES, 
ACTS  AS  A  QUICKENER  TO  INVENTIVE  GENIUS. 

The  constitution  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  though  able  to  sus- 
tain a  very  considerable  amount  of  exertion  and  fatigue, 
was  not  proof  against  such  a  combination  of  attacks  as 
he  had  undergone  on  the  memorable  night  recorded  in 
the  last  chapter.  The  process  of  being  washed  in  the 
night  air,  and  rough-dried  in  a  closet,  is  as  dangerous  as 
it  is  peculiar.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  laid  up  with  an  attack 
of  rheumatism. 

But  although  the  bodily  powers  of  the  great  man  were 
thus  impaired,  his  mental  energies  retained  their  pristine 
vigour.  His  spirits  were  elastic;  his  good  humour  was 
restored.  Even  the  vexation  consequent  upon  his  recent 
adventure  had  vanished  from  his  mind;  and  he  could 
join  in  the  hearty  laughter  which  any  allusion  to  it  ex- 
cited in  Mr.  Wardle,  without  anger  and  without  em- 
barrassment. Nay,  more.  During  the  two  days  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  confined  to  his  bed,  Sam  was  his  constant 
attendant.  On  the  first,  he  endeavoured  to  amuse  his 
master  by  anecdote  and  conversation;  on  the  second, 
Mr.  Pickwick  demanded  his  writing-desk,  and  pen  and 
ink,  and  was  deeply  engaged  during  the  whole  day.  On 
the  third,  being  able  to  sit  up  in  his  bed-chamber,  he 
despatched  his  valet  with  a  message  to  Mr.  Wardle  and 
Mr.  Trundle,  intimating  that  if  they  would  take  their 
wine  there,  that  evening,  they  would  greatly  oblige  him. 
The  invitation  was  most  willingly  accepted;  and  when 
they  were  seated  over  their  wine,  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
sundry  blushes,  produced  the  following  little  tale,  as 
having  been  "  edited"  by  himself,  during  his  recent  in- 
disposition, from  his  notes  of  Mr.  Weller's  unsophisti- 
cated recital: 

THE  PARISH  CLERK. 

*'A  TALE  OF  TRUE  LOVE, 

Once  upon  a  time  in  a  very  small  country  town,  at  a 


238  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

considerable  distance  from  London,  there  lived  a  little 
man  named  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  who  was  the  parish  clerk 
of  the  little  town,  and  lived  in  a  little  house  in  the  little 
high  street,  within  ten  minutes' walk  of  the  little  church; 
and  who  was  to  be  found  every  day  from  nine  till  four 
teaching  a  little  learning  to  the  little  boys.  Nathaniel 
Pipkin  was  a  harmless,  inoffensive  good-natured  being, 
with  a  turned-up  nose,  and  rather  turned-in  legs:  a 
cast  in  his  eye,  and  a  halt  in  his  gait;  and  he  divided  his 
time  between  the  church  and  his  school,  verily  believing 
that  there  existed  not,  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  so  clever 
a  man  as  the  curate,  so  imposing  an  apartment  as  the 
vestry-room,  or  so  well-ordered  a  seminary  as  his  own. 
Once,  and  once  only,  in  his  life,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had 
seen  a  bishop — a  real  bishop,  with  his  arms  in  lawn 
sleeves,  and  his  head  in  a  wig.  He  had  seen  him 
walk,  and  heard  him  talk,  at  a  confirmation,  on  which 
momentous  occasion  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  so  overcome 
with  reverence  and  awe,  when  the  aforesaid  bishop  laid 
his  hand  on  his  head,  that  he  fainted  right  clean  away, 
and  was  borne  out  of  church  in  the  arms  of  the  beadle. 

^^This  was  a  great  event,  a  tremendous  era,  in 
Nathaniel  Pipkin's  life,  and  it  was  the  only  one  that 
had  ever  occurred  to  ruffle  the  smooth  current  of  his 
quiet  existence,  when  happening  one  fine  afternoon,  in 
a  fit  of  mental  abstraction,  to  raise  his  eyes  from  the 
slate  on  which  he  was  devising  some  tremendous  prob- 
lem in  compound  addition  for  an  offending  urchin  to 
solve,  they  suddenly  rested  on  the  blooming  countenance 
of  Maria  Lobbs,  the  only  daughter  of  old  Lobbs,  the 
great  saddler  over  the  way.  Now,  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Pip- 
kin had  rested  on  the  pretty  face  of  Maria  Lobbs  many 
a  time  and  oft  before,  at  church  and  elsewhere:  but  the 
eyes  of  Maria  Lobbs  had  never  looked  so  bright,  the 
cheeks  of  Maria  Lobbs  had  never  looked  so  ruddy,  as 
upon  this  particular  occasion.  No  wonder  then  that 
Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  unable  to  take  his  eyes  from  the 
countenance  of  Miss  Lobbs;  no  wonder  that  Miss  Lobbs, 
finding  herself  stared  at  by  a  young  man,  withdrew  her 
head  from  the  window  out  of  which  she  had  been  peep- 
ing, and  shut  the  casement  and  pulled  down  the  blind; 
no  wonder  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  immediately  there- 
after, fell  upon  the  young  urchin  who  had  previously 
offended,  ai^d  cuffed  and  knocked  bom  about  to  biis 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


239 


heart's  content.  All  this  was  very  natural,  and  there's 
nothing  at  all  to  wonder  at  about  it. 

''It  is  matter  of  wonder,  though,  that  anyone  of  Mr. 
Nathaniel  Pipkin's  retiring  disposition,  nervous  tempera- 
ment, and  most  particularly  diminutive  income,  should 
from  this  day  forth  have  dared  to  aspire  to  the  hand  and 
heart  of  the  only  daughter  of  the  fiery  old  Lobbs — of  old 
Lobbs  the  great  saddler,  who  could  have  bought  up  the 
whole  village  at  the  stroke  of  his  pen,  and  never  felt  the 
outlay — old  Lobbs  who  was  well  known  to  have  heaps 
of  money,  invested  in  the  bank  at  the  nearest  market 
town — old  Lobbs,  who  was  reported  to  have  countless 
and  inexhaustible  treasures,  hoarded  up  in  the  little  iron 
safe  with  the  big  key -hole,  over  the  chimney-piece  in  the 
back  parlour — old  Lobbs,  who,  it  was  well  known,  on 
festive  occasions  garnished  his  board  with  a  real  silver 
tea-pot,  cream  ewer,  and  sugar-basin,  ^^ich  he  was 
wont,  in  the  pride  of  his  heart,  to  boast  should  be  his 
daughter's  property  when  she  found  a  man  to  h^  mind. 
I  repeat  it,  to  be  matter  of  profound  astonishment  and 
intense  wonder,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  should  have  had 
the  temerity  to  cast  his  eyes  in  this  direction.  But  love  is 
blind:  and  Nathaniel  had  a  cast  in  his  eye:  and  perhaps 
these  two  circumstances,  taken  together,  prevented  his 
seeing  the  matter  in  its  proper  light. 

''Now,  if  old  Lobbs  had  entertained  the  most  remote 
or  distant  idea  of  the  state  of  the  affections  of  Nathaniel 
Pipkin,  he  would  just  have  razed  the  school-room  to  the 
ground,  or  exterminated  its  master  from  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  or  committed  some  other  outrage  and  atrocity 
of  an  equally  ferocious  and  violent  description;  for  he 
was  a  terrible  old  fellow,  was  Lobbs,  when  his  pride 
was  injured,  or  his  blood  was  up.  Swear  !  Such  trains 
of  oaths  would  come  rolling  and  pealing  over  the  way, 
sometimes,  when  he  was  denouncing  the  idleness  of  the 
bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs,  that  Nathaniel  Pip- 
kin would  shake  in  his  shoes  with  horror,  and  the  hair 
of  the  pupils'  head  would  stand  on  an  end  with  fright, 

"  Well !  Day  after  day,  when  school  was  over,  and 
the  pupils  gone,  did  Nathaniel  Pipkin  sit  himself  down 
at  the  iront  window,  and  while  he  feigned  to  be  reading 
a  book,  throw  sidelong  glances  over  the  way  in  search  of 
the  bright  eyes  of  Maria  Lobbs;  and  he  hadn't  sat  there 
many  days,  before  the  bnVht  eyes  appeared  at  an  upper 


240 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


window,  apparently  deeply  engaged  in  reading  too. 
This  was  delightful,  and  gladdening  to  the  heart  of 
Nathaniel  Pipkin.  It  was  something  to  sit  there  for 
hours  together,  and  look  upon  that  pretty  face  when  the 
eyes  were  cast  down;  but  when  Maria  Lobbs  began  to 
raise  her  eyes  from  her  book,  and  dart  their  rays  in  the 
direction  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  his  delight  and  admira- 
tion were  perfectly  boundless.  At  last,  one  day  when 
he  knew  old  Lobbs  was  out,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had  the 
temerity  to  kiss  his  hand  to  Maria  Lobbs;  and  Maria 
Lobbs,  instead  of  shutting  the  window,  and  pulling 
down  the  blind,  kissed  hers  to  him,  and  smiled.  Upon 
which  Nathaniel  Pipkin  determined  that,  come  what 
might,  he  would  develope  the  state  of  his  feelings  with- 
out further  delay. 

''A  prettier  foot,  a  gayer  heart,  a  more  dimpled  face, 
or  a  smarter  £orm,  never  bounded  so  lightly  over  the 
earth  they  graced,  as  did  those  of  Maria  Lobbs,  the  old 
saddler's^aughter.  There  was  a  roguish  twinkle  in  her 
sparkling  eyes,  that  would  have  made  its  way  to  far 
less  susceptible  bosoms  than  that  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin; 
and  there  was  such  a  joyous  sound  in  her  merry  laugh, 
that  the  sternest  misanthrope  must  have  smiled  to  hear 
it.  Even  old  Lobbs  himself,  in  the  very  height  of  his 
ferocity,  couldn't  resist  the  coaxing  of  his  pretty 
daughter;  and  when  she,  and  her  cousin  Kate — an  arch, 
impudent  looking,  bewitching  little  person — made  a  dead 
set  upon  the  old  man  together,  as,  to  say  the  truth,  they 
very  often  did,  he  could  have  refused  them  nothing, 
even  had  they  asked  for  a  portion  of  the  countless  and 
inexhaustible  treasures,  which  were 'hidden  from  the 
light,  in  the  iron  safe. 

Nathaniel  Pipkin's  heart  beat  high  within  him  when 
he  saw  this  enticing  little  couple  some  hundred  yards  be- 
fore him,  one  summer's  evening,  in  the  very  field  in  which 
he  had  many  a  time  strolled  about  till  night-time,  and 
pondered  on  the  beauty  of  Maria  Lobbs.  But  though 
he  had  often  thought,  then,  how  briskly  he  would  walk 
up  to  Maria  Lobbs  and  tell  her  of  his  passion  if  he  could 
only  meet  her,  he  felt,  now  that  she  was  unexpectedly 
before  him,  all  the  blood  in  his  body  mounting  to  his 
face,  manifestly  to  the  great  detriment  of  his  legs, 
which,  deprived  of  their  usual  portion,  trembled  beneath 
him.    When  they  stopped  to  gather  a  hedge-flower  or 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


241 


listen  to  a  bird,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  stopped  too,  and  pre- 
tended to  be  absorbed  in  meditation,  as  indeed  he  really 
was;  for  he  was  thinking  what  on  earth  he  should  ever 
do,  when  they  turned  back,  as  they  inevitably  must  in 
time,  and  met  him  face  to  face.  But  though  he  was 
afraid  to  make  up  to  them,  he  couldn't  bear  to  lose  sight 
of  them  ;  so  when  they  walked  faster  he  walked  faster, 
when  they  lingered  he  lingered,  and  when  they  stopped 
he  stopped  ;  and  so  they  might  have  gone  on,  until  the 
darkness  prevented  them,  if  Kate  had  not  slyly  looked 
back,  and  encouragingly  beckoned  Nathaniel  to  advance. 
There  was  something  in  Kate's  manner  that  w^as  not  to 
be  resisted,  and  so  Nathaniel  Pipkin  complied  with  the 
invitation  ;  and  after  a  great  deal  of  blushing  on  his 
part,  and  immoderate  laughter  on  that  of  the  wicked 
little  cousin,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  went  down  on  his  knees 
on  the  dewy  grass,  and  declared  his  resolution  to  remain 
there  forever,  unless  he  were  permitted  to  rise  the  ac- 
cepted lover  of  Maria  Lobbs.  Upon  this,  the  merry 
laughter  of  Maria  Lobbs  rang  through  the  calm  evening 
air — without  seeming  to  disturb  it  though;  it  had  such 
a  pleasant  sound — and  the  wicked  little  cousin  laughed 
more  immoderately  than  before,  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin 
blushed  deeper  than  ever.  At  length,  Maria  Lobbs 
being  more  strenuously  urged  by  the  love-worn  little 
man,  turned  away  her  head,  and  whispered  her  cousin 
to  say,  or  at  all  events  Kate  did  say,  that  she  felt  much 
honoured  by  Mr.  Pipkin's  addresses;  that  her  hand  and 
heart  were  at  her  father's  disposal ;  but  that  nobody 
could  be  insensible  to  Mr.  Pipkin's  merits.  As  all  this 
was  said  with  much  gravity,  and  as  Nathaniel  Pipkin 
walked  home  with  Maria  Lobbs,  and  struggled  for  a  kiss 
at  parting,  he  went  to  bed  a  happy  man,  and  dreamed 
all  night  long  of  softening  old  Lobbs,  opening  the  strong- 
box, and  marrying  Maria. 

''The  next  day,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  saw  old  Lobbs  go 
out  upon  his  old  grey  pony,  and  after  a  great  many 
signs  at  the  window  from  the  wicked  little  cousin,  the 
object  and  meaning  of  which  he  could  by  no  means  un- 
derstand, the  bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs  came 
oyer  to  say  that  his  master  wasn't  coming  home  all 
night,  and  that  the  ladies  expected  Mr.  Pipkin  to  tea,  at 
six  o'clock  precisely.  How  the  lessons  were  got  through 
that  day,  neither  Nathaniel  Pipkin  nor  his  pupils  knew 


242  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  Ot' 

any  more  than  you  do;  but  they  were  got  through  some- 
how, and,  after  the  boys  had  gone,  Nathaniel  Pipkin 
took  till  full  six  o'clock  to  dress  himself  to  his  satisfac- 
tion. Not  that  it  took  long  to  select  the  garments  he 
should  wear,  inasmuch  as  he  had  no  choice  about  the 
matter;  but  the  putting  of  them  on  to  the  best  advantage, 
and  the  touching  of  them  up  previously,  was  a  task  of  no 
inconsiderable  difficulty  or  importance. 

There  was  a  very  snug  little  party;  consisting  of 
Maria  Lobbs  and  her  cousin  Kate,  and  three  or  four 
romping,  good-humoured,  rosy-cheeked  girls.  Nathaniel 
Pipkin  had  ocular  demonstration  of  the  fact,  that  the 
rumours  of  old  Lobb's  treasures  were  not  exaggerated. 
There  were  the  real  solid-silver  tea-pot,  cream-ewer,  and 
sugar-basin,  on  the  table,  and  real  silver  spoons  to  stir 
the  tea  with,  and  real  china  cups  to  drink  it  out  of,  and 
plates  of  the  same  to  hold  the  cakes  and  toast  in.  The 
only  eye-sore  in  the  whole  place,  was  another  cousin  of 
Maria  Lobbs's,  and  a  brother  of  Kate,  whom  Maria 
Lobbs  called  '  Henry,'  and  who  seemed  to  keep  Maria 
Lobbs  all  to  himself,  up  in  one  corner  of  the  table.  It's 
a  delightful  thing  to  see  affection  in  families,  but  it  may 
be  carried  rather  too  far,  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could 
not  help  thinking  that  Maria  Lobbs  must  be  very  par- 
ticularly fond  of  her  relations,  if  she  paid  as  much  at- 
tention to  all  of  them  as  to  this  individual  cousin.  After 
tea,  too,  when  the  wicked  little  cousin  proposed  a  game 
at  blind  man's  buff,  it  somehow  or  other  happened  that 
Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  nearly  always  blind,  and  when- 
ever he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  male  cousin,  he  was  sure 
to  find  Maria  Lobbs  not  far  off.  And  though  the  wicked 
little  cousin  and  the  other  girls  pinched  him,  and  pulled 
his  hair,  and  pushed  chairs  in  his  way,  and  all  sorts  of 
things,  Maria  Lobbs  never  seemed  to  come  near  him  at 
all ;  and  once — once — Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  have 
sworn  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  kiss,  followed  by  a  faint 
remonstrance  from  Maria  Lobbs,  and  a  half -suppressed 
laugh  from  her  female  friends.  All  this  was  very  odd- 
very  odd — and  there  is  no  saying  what  Nathaniel  Pipkin 
might  or  might  not  have  done,  in  consequence,  if  his 
thoughts  had  not  been  suddenly  directed  into  a  new 
channel. 

"  The  circumstance  which  directed  his  thoughts  into 
^  new  channel  was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  street-doorj 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


and  the  person  who  made  this  loud  knocking  at  the 
street-door  was  no  other  than  old  Lobbs  himself ,  who  had 
unexpectedly  returned,  and  was  hammering  away,  like 
a  coffin-maker;  for  he  wanted  his  supper.  The  alarming 
intelligence  was  no  sooner  communicated  by  the  bony 
apprentice  with  the  thin  legs,  than  the  girls  tripped  up 
stairs  to  Maria  Lobbs's  bed-room,  and  the  male  cousin 
and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  were  thrust  into  a  couple  of  closets 
in  the  sitting-room,  for  want  of  any  better  places  of 
concealment;  and  when  Maria  Lobbs  and  the  wicked 
little  cousin  had  stowed  them  away,  and  put  the  room 
to  rights,  they  opened  the  street-door  to  old  Lobbs,  who 
liad  never  left  off  knocking  since  he  first  began. 

''Now  it  did  unfortunately  happen  that  old  Lobbs 
bein^  very  hungry  was  monstrous  cross.  Nathaniel 
Pipkm  could  hear  him  growling  away  like  an  old  mas- 
tiff with  a  sore  throat;  and  whenever  the  unfortunate 
apprentice  with  the  thin  legs  came  into  the  room,  so 
surely  did  old  Lobbs  commence  swearing  at  him  in  a 
most  Saracenic  and  ferocious  manner,  though  appar- 
ently with  no  other  end  or  object  than  that  of  easing  his 
bosom  by  the  discharge  of  a  few  superfluous  oaths.  At 
length  some  supper,  which  had  been  warming  up,  was 
placed  on  the  table,  and  then  old  Lobbs  fell  to,  in  regu- 
lar style;  and  having  made  clear  work  of  it  in  no  time, 
kissei  his  daughter,  and  demanded  his  pipe. 

''Nature  had  placed  Nathaniel  Pipkin's  knees  in  very 
close  juxtaposition,  but  when  he  heard  old  Lobbs  de- 
mand his  pipe,  they  knocked  together,  as  if  they  were 
going  to  reduce  each  other  to  powder;  for,  depending 
from  a  couple  of  hooks,  in  the  very  closet  in  which  he 
stood,  was  a  large  brown-stemmed  silver-bowled  pipe, 
which  pipe  he  himself  had  seen  in  the  mouth  of  old 
Lobbs,  regularly  every  afternoon  and  evening,  for  the 
last  five  years.  The  two  girls  went  down  stairs  for  the 
pipe,  and  up  stairs  for  the  pipe,  and  everywhere  but 
where  they  knew  the  pipe  was,  and  old  Lobbs  stormed 
awav  meanwhile,  in  the  most  wonderful  manner.  At 
last  he  thought  of  the  closet,  and  walked  up  to  it.  It 
was  of  no  use  a  little  man  like  Nathaniel  Pipkin  pulling 
the  door  inwards,  when  a  great  strong  fellow  like  old 
Lobbs  was  pulling  it  outwards.  Old  Lobbs  gave  it  one 
tug,  and  open  it  flew,  disclosing  Nathaniel  Pipkin  stand- 
ing bolt  upright  inside  and  shaking  with  apprehension 


244  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

from  head  to  foot.  Bless  us!  what  an  appalling  look  old 
Lobbs  gave  him,  as  he  dragged  him  out  by  the  collar, 
and  held  him  at  arm's  length. 

^'^Why,  what  the  devil  do  you  want  here?'  said  old 
Lobbs,  in  a  fearful  voice. 

"  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  make  no  reply,  so  old  Lobbs 
shook  him  backwards  and  forwards,  for  two  or  three 
minutes,  by  way  of  arranging  his  ideas  for  him. 

^^^What  do  you  want  here?'  roared  Lobbs;  *I  sup- 
pose you  have  come  after  my  daughter,  now?' 

"  Old  Lobbs  merely  said  this  as  a  sneer;  for  he  did  not 
believe  that  mortal  presumption  could  have  carried  Na- 
thaniel Pipkin  so  far.  What  was  his  indignation  when 
that  poor  man  replied — 

^  Yes,  I  did,  Mr.  Lobbs — I  did  come  after  your  daugh- 
ter.   I  love  her,  Mr.  Lobbs.' 

'^^Why,  you  snivelling,  wry-faced,  puny  villain,' 
gasped  old  Lobbs,  paralyzed  by  the  atrocious  confession; 
'what  do  you  mean  by  that?  Say  this  to  my  face! 
Damme,  I'll  throttle  you.' 

''It  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  old  Lobbs  would 
have  carried  this  threat  into  execution,  in  the  excess  of 
his  rage,  if  his  arm  had  not  been  stayed  by  a  very  un- 
expected apparition,  to  wit,  the  male  cousin,  who,  step- 
ping out  of  his  closet,  and  walking  up  to  old  Lobbs, 
said — 

"  'I  cannot  allow  this  harmless  person,  sir,  who  has 
been  asked  here,  in  some  girlish  frolic,  to  take  upon  him- 
self, in  a  very  noble  manner,  the  fault  (if  fault  it  is) 
which  I  am  guilty  of,  and  am  ready  to  avow.  I  love 
your  daughter,  sir;  and  I  came  here  for  the  purpose  of 
meeting  her.' 

"  Old  Lobbs  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  at  this,  but  not 
wider  than  Nathaniel  Pipkin. 

' ' '  You  did  ?'  said  Lobbs,  at  last  finding  breath  to  speak. 
"'I  did.' 

"  '  And  I  forbade  you  this  house,  long  ago?' 

"  'You  did,  or  I  should  not  have  been  here,  clandes- 
tinely, to-night.' 

"I  am  sorry  to  record  it  of  old  Lobbs,  but  I  think  he 
would  have  struck  the  cousin,  if  his  pretty  daughter, 
with  her  bright  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  had  not  clung 
to  his  arm. 

"  '  Don't  stop  him,  Maria/  said  the  young  man;  '  if  be 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


245 


has  the  will  to  strike  me,  let  him.  I  would  not  hurt  a 
hair  of  his  grey  head  for  the  riches  of  the  world.' 

"  The  old  man  cast  down  his  eyes  at  this  reproof,  and 
they  met  those  of  his  daughter.  I  have  hinted  once  or 
twice  before,  that  they  were  very  bright  eyes,  and, 
though  they  were  tearful  now,  their  influence  was  by 
no  means  lessened.  Old  Lobbs  turned  his  head  away,  as 
if  to  avoid  being  persuaded  by  them,  when,  as  fortune 
would  have  it,  he  encountered  the  face  of  the  wicked 
little  cousin,  who,  half  afraid  for  her  brother,  and  half 
laughing  at  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  presented  as  bewitching 
an  expression  of  countenance,  with  a  touch  of  slyness 
in  it  too,  as  any  man,  old  or  young,  need  look  upon. 
She  drew  her  arm  coaxingly  through  the  old  man's  and 
whispered  something  in  his  ear;  and  do  what  he  would, 
old  Lobbs  couldn't  help  breaking  out  into  a  smile,  while 
a  tear  stole  down  his  cheek  at  the  same  time. 

"  Five  minutes  after  this,  the  girls  were  brought  down 
from  the  bed-room  with  a  great  deal  of  giggling  and 
modesty;  and  while  the  young  people  were  making 
themselves  perfectly  happy,  old  Lobbs  got  down  the 
pipe,  and  smoked  it:  and  it  was  a  remarkable  circum- 
stance about  that  particular  pipe  of  tobacco,  that  it 
was  the  most  soothing  and  delightful  one  he  ever  smoked. 

"  Nathaniel  Pipkin  thought  it  best  to  keep  his  own 
counsel,  and  by  so  doing  gradually  rose  into  high  favour 
with  old  Lobbs,  who  taught  him  to  smoke  in  time;  and 
they  used  to  sit  out  in  the  garden  on  the  fine  evenings, 
for  many  years  afterwards,  smoking  and  drinking  in 
great  state.  He  soon  recovered  the  effects  of  his  attach- 
ment, for  we  find  his  name  in  the  parish  register,  as  a 
witness  to  the  marriage  of  Maria  Lobbs  to  her  cousin; 
and  it  also  appears,  by  reference  to  other  documents, 
that  on  the  night  of  the  wedding  he  v/as  incarcerated 
in  the  village  cage  for  having,  in  a  state  of  extreme 
intoxication,  committed  sundry  excesses  in  the  streets, 
in  all  of  which  he  was  aided  and  abetted  by  the  bony 
apprentice  v^^ith  the  thin  legs." 


^46  POSTHUMOUS  PAPE3RS  OF 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BRIEFLY    ILLUSTRATIVE    OP    TWO    POINTS  —  FIRST,  THE 
POWER  OF  HYSTERICS,  AND,  SECONDLY,  THE 
FORCE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

For  two  days  after  the  breakfast  at  Mrs.  Hunter's, 
the  Pickwickians  remained  at  Eatanswill,  anxiously 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  some  intelligence  from  their 
revered  leader.  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  were 
once  again  left  to  their  own  means  of  amusement:  for 
Mr.  Winkle,  in  compliance  with  a  most  pressing  invita- 
tion, continued  to  reside  at  Mr.  Pott's  house,  and  to  de- 
vote his  time  to  the  companionship  of  his  amiable  lady. 
Nor  was  the  occasional  society  of  Mr.  Pott  himself 
wanting  to  complete  their  felicity.  Deeply  immersed 
in  the  intensity  of  his  speculations  for  the  public  weal, 
and  the  destruction  of  the  Independent,  it  was  not  the 
habit  of  that  great  man  to  descend  from  his  mental  pin- 
nacle to  the  humble  level  of  ordinary  minds.  On  this 
occasion,  however,  and  a3  if  expressly  in  compliment  to 
any  follower  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  he  unbent,  relaxed, 
stepped  down  from  his  pedestal,  and  walked  upon  the 
ground:  benignly  adapting  his  remarks  to  the  compre- 
hension of  the  herd,  'and  seeming  in  outward  form,  if 
not  in  spirit,  to  be  one  of  them. 

Such  having  been  the  demeanour  of  this  celebrated 
public  character  towards  Mr.  Winkle,  it  will  be  readily 
imagined  that  considerable  surprise  was  depicted  on  the 
countenance  of  the  latter  gentleman,  when,  as  he  was 
sitting  alone  in  the  breakfast-room,  the  door  was  hastily 
thrown  open,  and  as  hastily  closed,  on  the  entrance  of 
Mr.  Pott,  who,  stalking  majestically  towards  him,  and 
thrusting  aside  his  proif  ered  hand,  ground  his  teeth,  as 
if  to  put  a  sharper  edge  on  what  he  was  about  to  utter, 
and  exclaimed,  in  a  saw-like  voice: 

^'Serpent!" 

Sir!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  starting  from  his  chair. 
''Serpent,  sir!"  repeated  Mr.  Pott,  raising  his  voice, 
and  then  suddenly  depressing  it;     I  said  serpent,  sir — 
make  the  most  of  it" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLU^. 


247 


When  you  have  parted  with  a  man,  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  on  terms  of  the  utmost  good  fellowship, 
and  he  meets  you  again,  at  half -past  nine,  and  greets 
you  as  a  serpent,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  conclude  that 
something  of  an  unpleasant  nature  has  occurred  mean- 
while. So  Mr.  Winkle  thought.  He  returned  Mr.  Pott's 
gaze  of  stone,  and,  in  compliance  with  that  gentleman's 
request,  proceeded  to  make  the  most  he  could  of  the 

serpent."  The  most,  however,  was  nothing  at  all;  so, 
after  a  profound  silence  of  some  minutes'  duration,  he 
said: 

''Serpent,  sir!  Serpent,  Mr.  Pott!  What  can  you 
mean,  sir? — this  is  pleasantry." 

Pleasantry,  sir!"  exclaimed  Pott,  with  a  motion  of 
the  hand,  indicative  of  a  strong  desire  to  hurl  the  Brit- 
annia metal  tea-pot  at  the  head  of  his  visitor.  ''Pleas- 
antry, sir! — but  no,  I  will  be  calm;  I  will  be  calm,  sir:" 
in  proof  of  his  calmness,  Mr.  Pott  flung  himself  into  a 
chair,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Dear  sir!"  replied  Pott.  "How  dare  you  address  me 
as  dear  sir,  sir?  How  dare  you  look  me  in  the  face  and 
do  it,  sir?" 

"  Well,  sir,  if  you  come  to  that,"  responded  Mr. 
Winkle,  "how  dare  you  look  me  in  the  face,  and  call 
me  a  serpent,  sir?" 

"Because  you  are  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pott. 

"  Prove  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  warmly  "Prove  it." 

A  malignant  scowl  passed  over  the  profound  face  of 
the  editor,  as  he  drew  from  his  pocket  the  Independent 
of  that  morning;  and  laying  his  finger  on  a  particular 
paragraph,  threw  the  journal  across  the  table  to  Mr. 
Winkle. 

That  gentleman  took  it  up,  and  read  as  follows: 
"Our  obscure  and  filthy  contemporary,  in  some  dis- 

fusting  observations  on  the  recent  election  for  this 
orougn,  has  presumed  to  violate  the  hallowed  sanctity 
of  private  life,  and  to  refer,  in  a  manner  not  to  be  misun- 
derstood, to  the  personal  affairs  of  our  late  candidate — 
aye,  and,  notwithstanding  his  base  defeat,  we  will  add, 
our  future  member,  Mr.  Fizkin.  What  does  our  das- 
tardly^ contemporary  mean?  What  would  the  ruffian 
say,  if  we,  setting  at  naught,  like  him,  the  decencies  of 
social  intercourse,  wore  i^o  raise  the  curtain  which  hap- 


248  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


pily  conceals  his  private  life  from  general  ridicule,  not 
to  say  from  general  execration?  What  if  we  were  even 
to  point  out  and  comment  on  facts  and  circumstances, 
which  are  publicly  notorious,  and  beheld  by  every  one 
but  our  mole-eyed  contemporary — what  if  we  were  to 
print  the  following  effusion,  which  we  received  while 
we  were  writing  the  commencement  of  this  article,  from 
a  talented  fellow-townsman  and  correspondent! 

'lines  to  a  brass  pot. 

«*'0h,  Pott?  if  you'd  known 
How  false  she'd  have  grown 
When  you  heard  the  marriage  bells  tinkle; 
You'd  have  done  then,  I  vow. 
What  you  cannot  help  now, 
,  And  handed  her  over  to  W****. 

''What,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  solemnly:  "what rhymes  to  - 
'tinkle,'  villain?" 

"What  rhymes  to  tinkle?"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  whose 
entrance  at  the  moment  forestalled  the  reply.  "What 
rhymes  to  tinkle?  Why,  Winkle,  I  should  conceive." 
Saying  this,  Mrs.  Pott  smiled  sweetly  on  the  disturbed 
Pickwickian,  and  extended  her  hand  towards  him.  The 
agitated  young  man  would  have  accepted  it,  in  his  con- 
fusion, had  not  Pott  indignantly  interposed. 

"Back,  ma'am — back!"  said  the  editor.    "Take  his 
hand  before  my  very  face!" 

"  Mr.  P. !"  said  his  astonished  lady. 

"  Wretched  woman,  look  here,"  exclaimed  the  hus- 
band. "Look  here,  ma'am — 'Lines  to  a  Srass  Pot.' 
'Brass  pot' — that's  me,  ma'am.  'False  she'di  have 
grown' — that's  you,  ma'am — you."  With  this  ebullition 
of  rage,  which  was  not  unaccompanied  with  something 
like  a  tremble,  at  the  expression  of  his  wife's  face,  Mr. 
Pott  dashed  the  current  number  of  the  Eatanswill  In- 
dependent at  her  feet. 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir,"  said  the  astonished  Mrs.  Pott, 
stooping  to  pick  up  the  paper.  "  Upon  my  word,  sir!" 

Mr.  Pott  winced  beneath  the  contemptuous  gaze  of  his 
wife.  He  had  made  a  desperate  struggle  to  screw  up  his 
courage,  but  it  was  fast  coming  unscrewed  again. 

There  appears  nothing  very  tremendous  in  this  little 
sentence  "Upon  my  word,  sir,"  when  it  comes  to  be 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


249 


read;  but  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  it  was  delivered, 
and  the  look  that  accompanied  it,  both  seeming  to  bear 
reference  to  some  revenge  to  be  thereafter  visited  upon 
tlie  head  of  Pott,  produced  their  full  effect  upon  him. 
The  most  unskilful  observer  could  have  detected  in  his 
troubled  countenance  a  readiness  to  resign  his  Welling- 
ton boot^  to  any  efficient  substitute  who  would  have 
consented  to  stand  in  them  at  that  moment. 

Mrs.  Pott  read  the  paragraph,  uttered  a  loud  shriek, 
and  threw  herself  at  full  length  on  the  hq^rth-rug, 
screaming,  and  tapping  it  with  the  heels  of  her  shoes, 
in  a  manner  which  could  leave  no  doubt  of  the  propriety 
of  her  feelings  on  the  occasion. 

''My  dear,"  said  the  terrified  Pott,  ''I  didn't  say  I 
believed  it;  I — but  the  unfortunate  man's  voice  was 
drowned  in  the  screaming  of  his  partner. 

''Mrs.  Pott,  let  me  entreat  you,  my  dear  ma'am,  to 
compose  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Winkle;  but  the  shrieks 
and  tappings  were  louder  and  more  frequent  than  ever. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  "I  am  very  sorry.  If  you 
wont  consider  your  own  health,  consider  me,  my  dear. 
We  shall  have  a  crowd  round  the  house."  But  the  more 
strenuously  Mr.  Pott  entreated,  the  more  vehemently 
the  screams  poured  forth. 

Very  fortunately,  however,  attached  to  Mrs.  Pott's 
person  was  a  body-guard  of  one,  a  young  lady  whose 
ostensible  employment  was  to  preside  over  her  toilet, 
but  who  rendered  herself  useful  in  a  variety  of  ways, 
and  in  none  more  so  than  in  the  particular  department 
of  constantly  aiding  and  abetting  her  mistress  in  every 
wish  and  inclination  opposed  to  the  desires  of  the  un- 
happy Pott.  The  screams  reached  this  young  lady's 
ears  in  due  course,  and  brought  her  into  the  room  with  a 
speed  which  threatened  to  derange  materially  the  very 
exquisite  arrangement  of  her  cap  and  ringlets. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  dear  mistress  !"  exclaimed  the  body- 
guard, kneeling  frantically  by  the  side  of  the  prostrate 
Mrs.  Pott,    "  Oh,  my  dear  mistress,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"Your  master — your  brutal  master,"  murmured  the 
patient. 

Pott  was  evidently  giving  way. 

"It's  a  shame,"  said  the  body-guard,  reproachfully. 
"  I  know  he'll  be  the  death  on  you,  ma'am.  Poor  dear 
thing." 


250 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


He  gave  way  more.  The  opposite  party  followed  up 
the  attack. 

"  Oh,  don't  leave  me — don't  leave  me,  Goodwin,"  mur- 
mured Mrs.  Pott,  clutching  at  the  wrists  of  the  said 
Goodwin  with  an  hysteric  jerk.  "  You're  the  only  per- 
son that's  kind  to  me,  Goodwin." 

At  this  affecting  appeal  Goodwin  got  up  a  little  do- 
mestic tragedy  of  her  own,  and  shed  tears  copiously. 

Never,  ma'am — never,"  said  Goodwin.  ^^Oh,  sir, 
you  shojild  be  careful — you  should  indeed  ;  you  don't 
know  what  harm  you  may  do  missis  ;  you'll  be  sorry  for 
it  one  day,  I  know — I've  always  said  so." 

The  unlucky  Pott  looked  timidly  on,  but  said  nothing. 

''Goodwin,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  a  soft  voice. 
Ma'am,"  said  Goodwin. 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  I  have  loved  that  man — " 

''Don't  distress  yourself  by  recollecting  it,  ma'am," 
said  the  body-guard. 

Pott  looked  very  frightened.  It  was  time  to  finish 
him. 

"And  now,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Pott — "now,  after  all,  to  be 
treated  in  this  way,  to  be  reproached  and  insulted  in  the 
presence  of  a  third  party,  and  that  party  almost  a 
stranger.  But  I  will  not  submit  to  it.  Goodwin,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Pott,  raising  herself  in  the  arms  of  her  at- 
tendant, "  my  brother,  the  Lieutenant,  shall  interfere. 
I'll  be  separated,  Goodwin." 

"  It  would  certainly  serve  him  right,  ma'am,"  said 
Goodwin. 

Whatever  thoughts  Jhe  threat  of  a  separation  might 
have  awakened  in  Mr.  Pott's  mind,  he  forbore  to  give 
utterance  to  them,  and  contented  himself  by  saymg, 
with  great  humility— 

"  My  dear,  will  you  hear  me 

A  fresh  train  of  sobs  was  the  only  reply,  as  Mrs.  Pott 
grew  more  hysterical,  requested  to  be  informed  why  she 
was  ever  born,  and  required  sundry  other  pieces  of  in- 
formation of  a  similar  description. 

"  My  dear,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Pott,  "  do  not  give  way 
to  these  sensitive  feelings.  I  never  believed  that  the 
paragraph  had  any  foundation,  my  dear — impossible. 
J  was  only  angry,  my  dear — I  may  say  outrageous — 


that's  all."   Mr.  Pott  cast  an  imploring  look  at  the  iuno- 


v/ith  the  Independent 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  '  ^1 

cent  cause  of  the  mischief,  as  if  to  entreat  him  to  say- 
nothing  about  the  serpent. 

And  what  steps,  sir,  do  you  mean  to  take  to  obtain 
redress  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  gaining  courage  as  he 
saw  Pott  losing  it. 

''Oh,  Goodwin,"  observed  Mrs.  Pott,  ''does  he  mean 
to  horsewhip  the  editor  of  the  Independent — does  he, 
Goodwin 

"Hush,  hush,  ma'am;  pray  keep  yourself  quiet,"  re- 
plied the  body-guard.  "I  dare  say  he  will,  if  you  wish 
It,  ma'am." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Pott,  as  his  wife  evinced  decided 
symptoms  of  going  off  again.    "  Of  course  I  shall." 

"When,  Goodwin — when?"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  still  un- 
decided about  the  going  off. 

"  Immediately,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pott;  "before  the 
day  is  out." 

"Oh,  Goodwin,"  resumed  Mrs.  Pott,  "it's  the  only 
way  of  meeting  the  slander,  and  setting  me  right  with 
the  world." 

"  Certainly,  ma'am,"  replied  Goodwin.  "No  man  as 
is  a  man,  ma'am,  could  refuse  to  do  it." 

So,  as  the  hysterics  were  still  hovering  about,  Mr. 
Pott  said  once  more  that  he  would  do  it,  but  Mrs.  Pott 
was  so  overcome  at  the  bare  idea  of  having  ever  been 
suspected,  that  she  was  half-a-dozen  times  on  the  very 
verge  of  a  relapse,  and  most  unquestionably  would  have 
gone  off  had  it  not  been  for  the  indefatigable  efforts  of 
the  assiduous  Goodwin,  and  repeated  entreaties  for  par- 
don from  the  conquered  Pott;  and  finally,  when  that 
unhappy  individual  had  been  frightened  and  snubbed 
down  to  his  proper  level,  Mrs.  Pott  recovered  and  they 
went  to  breakfast. 

"You  will  not  allow  this  base  newspaper  slander  to 
shorten  vour  stay  here,  Mr.  Winkle?"  said  Mrs.  Pott, 
smiling  through  the  traces  of  her  tears. 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  actuated,  as  he  spoke,  by 
a  wish  that  his  visitor  would  choke  himself  with  the 
morsel  of  dry  toast  which  he  was  raising  to  his  lips  at 
the  moment,  and  so  terminate  his  stay  effectually. 

"I  hope  not." 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Winkle;  "but  a  letter 
has  been  received  from  Mr.  Pickwick — so  I  learn  by  a 
note  from  Mr.  Tupman,  which  was  brought  up  to  my 


1 

1 


262  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

bed-room  door  this  morning — in  which  he  requests  us  to 
join  him  at  Bury  to-day;  and  we  are  to  leave  by  the 
coach  at  noon." 

But  you  will  come  back?"  said  Mrs.  Pott. 

''Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

''You  are  quite  sure?"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  stealing  a  ten- 
der look  at  her  visitor. 

"Quite,"  responded  Mr.  Winkle. 

The  breakfast  passed  off  in  silence,  for  each  member 
of  the  party  was  brooding  over  his  or  her  own  personal 
grievances.  Mrs.  Pott  was  regretting  the  loss  of  a  beau; 
Mr.  Pott  his  rash  pledge  to  horsewhip  the  Independent; 
Mr.  Winkle  his  having  innocently  placed  himself  in  so 
awkward  a  situation.  Noon  approached,  and,  after 
many  adieux  and  promises  to  return,  he  tore  himself 
away. 

"  If  he  ever  comes  back.  Til  poison  him,"  thought  Mr. 
Pott,  as  he  turned  into  the  little  back  office  where  ho 
prepared  his  thunderbolts. 

"If  I  ever  do  come  back  and  mix  myself  up  with 
these  people  again,"  thought  Mr.  Winkle,  as  he  wended 
his  way  to  the  Peacock,  "I  shall  deserve  to  be  horse- 
whipped myself — that's  all." 

His  friends  were  ready,  the  coach  was  nearly  so,  and 
in  half  an  hour  they  were  proceeding  on  their  journey, 
along  the  road  over  which  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  had 
so  recently  travelled,  and  of  which,  as  we  have  already 
smd  something,  we  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  extract 
Mr.  Snodgrass's  poetical  and  beautiful  description. 

Mr.  Weller  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  Angel, 
ready  to  receive  them,  and  by  that  gentleman  they  were 
ushered  to  the  apartment  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  where,  to  the 
no  small  surprise  of  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and 
the  no  small  embarrassment  of  Mr.  Tupman,  they  found 
old  Wardle  and  Trundle.  * 

"How  are  you?"  said  the  old  man,  grasping  Mr.  Tup- 
man's  hand.  "Don't  hang  back,  or  look  sentimental 
about  it;  it  can't  be  helped,  old  fellow.  For  her  pake,  I 
wish  you'd  had  her;  for  your  own,  I'm  very  glad  you 
have  not.  A  young  fellow  like  you  will  do  better  one  of 
these  days — eh  ?"  W ith  this  consolation,  Wardle  slapped 
Mr.  Tupman  on  the  back  and  laughed  heartily. 

"Well,  and  how  are  you,  my  fine  fellows?"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  shaking  hands  with  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


253 


The  person  charging  this  material  is  re- 
sponsible for  its  return  to  the  library  from 
which  it  was  withdrawn  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below. 

Theft,  mutilation,  and  underlining  of  books  are  reasons 
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To  renew  call  Telephone  Center,  333-8400 

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DEC  16^9^ 


just  been  telling 
wn  at  Christmas. 
3al  wedding  this 

ass,  turning  very 

iitened/'  said  the 
rundle  there  and 

relieved  from  a 
{y  on  his  breast. 

old  gentleman. 

'man,  and  all  of 


L161— O-1096 


1  effort — where 
lead,  and  covered 

a  knowing  shake 
e  relative — eh?" 
ihat  his  question 

old^  gentleman. 
L  off.  She  couldn't 
>ut  come!  Here's 
:  your  ride.  I  am, 

)0." 

;  and  when  they 
ad  been  disposed 
:  and  indignation 
e  he  had  under- 
ded  the  base  arti- 

liich  I  caught  in 
conclusion,  '*ren- 

adventure,"  said 
e  request  of  Mr. 
el  of  the  Eatans- 
it  excitement  of 

'ing  the  recital. 


252 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


bed-room  door 
join  him  at  Bi 
coach  at  noon.' 
But  you  wi 

"  Oh,  certain 

"  You  are  qi 
der  look  at  her 

''Quite,"  res] 

The  breakfas 
of  the  party  w^ 
grievances.  M 
Mr.  Pott  his  ra 
Mr.  Winkle  his 
awkward  a  sil 
many  adieux  a 
away. 

''  If  he  ever  c 
Pott,  as  he  tur 
prepared  his  thi 

''If  I  ever  d( 
these  people  ag 
his  way  to  the 
whipped  mysell 

His  friends  a\ 
in  half  an  hour 
along  the  road 
so  recently  trav 
s^d  something, 
Mr.  Snodgrass's 

Mr.  Weller  w 
ready  to  receive 
ushered  to  the  a 
no  small  surpris 
the  no  small  em 
old  Wardle  and 

"  How  are  yoi 
man's  hand.  " 
about  it;  it  can't 
wish  you'd  had 
have  not.  A  yo 
these  days — eh?" 
Mr.  Tupman  on 

"Well,  and  he 
old  gentleman,  s 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


253 


Snodgrass  at  the  same  time.  I  have  just  been  telling 
Pickwick  that  we  must  have  you  all  down  at  Christmas. 
We're  going  to  have  a  wedding — a  real  wedding  this 
time." 

•'A  wedding!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  turning  very 
pale. 

''Yes,  a  wedding.  But  don't  be  frightened/'  said  the 
good-humoured  old  man;  ''it's  only  Trundle  there  and 
Bella." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  relieved  from  a 
painful  doubt  which  had  fallen  heavily  on  his  breast. 
"  Give  you  joy,  sir.    How  is  Joe?" 

"Oh,  he — very  well,"  replied  the  old  gentleman. 
"  Sleepy  as  ever." 

"And  your  mother,  and  the  clergyman,  and  all  of 
em?" 

"Quite  well." 

"Where,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  effort — "where 
is — she,  sir?"  and  he  turned  away  his  head,  and  covered 
his  eyes  with  his  hands. 

"  She  /"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  knowing  shake 
of  the  head.    "  Do  you  mean  my  single  relative — eh?" 

Mr.  Tupman,  by  a  nod,  intimated  that  his  question 
applied  to  the  disappointed  Rachael. 

"Oh,  she's  gone  away,"  said  the  old»  gentleman. 
'•  She's  living  at  a  relation's,  far  enough  olf.  She  couldn't 
bear  to  see  the  girls,  so  I  let  her  go.  But  come!  Here's 
the  dinner.  You  must  be  hungry  after  your  ride.  I  am, 
without  any  ride  at  all;  so  let  us  fall  too." 

Ample  justice  was  done  to  the  meal;  and  when  they 
were  seated  round  the  table,  after  it  had  been  disposed 
of,  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  the  intense  horror  and  indignation 
of  his  followers,  related  the  adventure  he  had  under- 
gone, and  the  success  which  had  attended  the  base  arti- 
fices of  the  diabolical  Jingle. 

"And  the  attack  of  rheumatism  which  I  caught  in 
that  garden,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  conclusion,  "ren- 
ders me  lame  at  this  moment." 

"I,  too,  have  had  something  of  an  adventure,"  said 
Mr.  Winkle,  with  a  smile;  and,  at  the  request  of  Mr. 
Pickwick,  he  detailed  the  malicious  libel  of  the  Eatans- 
will  Independent,  and  the  consequent  excitement  of 
their  friend,  the  editor. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  brow  darkened  during  the  recital. 


364  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

His  friends  observed  it,  and,  when  Mr.  Winkle  had  con- 
cluded, maintained  a  profound  silence.  Mr.  Pickwick 
struck  the  table  emphatically  with  his  clenched  fist,  and 
spoke  as  follows: 

Is  it  not  a  wonderful  circumstance,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, ^'that  we  seem  destined  to  enter  no  man's  house, 
without  involving  him  in  some  degree  of  trouble?  Does 
it  not,  I  ask,  bespeak  the  indiscretion,'  or,  worse  than 
that,  the  blackness  of  heart — that  I  should  say  so! — of 
my  followers,  that  beneath  whatever  roof  they  locate, 
they  disturb  the  peace  of  mind  and  happiness  of  some 
confiding  female?   Is  it  not,  I  say — " 

Mr.  Pickwick  would,  in  all  probability,  have  gone  on 
for  some  time,  had  not  the  entrance  of  Sam,  with  a  let- 
ter, caused  him  to  break  off  in  his  eloquent  discourse. 
He  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his  forehead,  took  off 
his  spectacles,  wiped  them,  and  put  them  on  again;  and 
his  voice  had  recovered  its  wonteSi  softness  of  tone,  when 
he  said: 

' '  What  have  you  there,  Sam  ?  " 
Called  at  the  Post-office  just  now,  and  found  this 
here  letter,  as  has  laid  there  for  two  days,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller.      It's  sealed  vith  a  vafer,  and  directed  in  round 
hand." 

''I  don't  know  this  hand,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  opening 
the  letter.  ''Mercy  on  us!  what's  this?  It  must  be  a 
jest;  it — it — can't  be  true." 

What's  the  matter? "  was  the  general  inquiry. 

'•Nobody  dead,  is  there?"  said  Wardle,  alarmed  at  the 
horror  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick  made  no  reply,  but,  pushing  the  letter 
across  the  table,  and  desiring  Mr.  Tupman  to  read  it 
aloud,  fell  back  in  his  chair  with  a  look  of  vacant  aston- 
ishment quite  alarming  to  behold. 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  a  trembling  voice,  read  the  letter, 
of  which  the  following  is  a  copy: 

Freeman^ s  Court,  Cornhill, 

August  28th,  1830. 
Bardell  against  Pickwick. 

Sir: 

Having  been  instructed  by  Mrs.  Martha  Bardell, 
to  commence  an  action  against  you,  for  a  breach  of 
promise  of  marriage,  for  which  the  plaintiff  lays  h^r 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  «55 

damages  at  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  we  beg  to  inform  you 
that  a  writ  has  been  issued  against  you  in  this  suit, 
in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas;  and  request  to  know,  by 
return  of  post,  the  name  of  your  attorney  in  London, 
who  will  accept  service  thereof. 

We  are.  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servants, 

Dodson  and  Fogg, 

Mr.  Samuel  Pickwick, 

There  was  something  so  impressive  in  the  mute  aston- 
ishment with  which  each  man  regarded  his  neighbour, 
and  every  man  regarded  Mr.  Pickwick,  that  all  seemed 
afraid  to  speak.  The  silence  was  at  length  broken  by 
Mr.  Tupman. 

''Dodson  and  Fogg,"  he  repeated,  mechanically. 

''Bardell  and  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  musing. 

"  Peace  of  mind  and  happiness  of  confiding  females," 
murmured  Mr.  Winkle,  with  an  air  of  abstraction. 

*'It's  a  conspiracj^,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  length  re- 
covering the  power  of  speech;  ''a  base  conspiracy  be- 
tween these  two  grasping  attorneys,  Dodson  and  Fogg. 
Mrs.  Bardell  would  never  do  it;  she  hasn't  the  heart  to  do 
it;  she  hasn't  the  case  to  do  it.    Ridiculous — ridiculous." 

''Of  her  heart,"  said  Wardle,  with  a  smile,  "you 
should  certainly  be  the  best  judge.  I  don't  wish  to  dis- 
courage you,  but  I  should  certainly  say  that  of  her  case 
Dodson  and  Fogg  are  far  better  judges  than  any  of  us 
can  be." 

"  It's  a  vile  attempt  to  extort  money,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  I  hope  it  is,"  said  Wardle,  with  a  short,  dry  cough. 

"  Who  ever  heard  me  address  her  in  any  way  but  that 
in  which  a  lodger  would  address  his  landlady?"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  vehemence.  "Who 
ever  saw  me  with  her?  Not  even  my  friends  here — " 

"  Except  on  one  occasion,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

Mr.  Pickwick  changed  colour. 

"  Ah,"  said  Wardle.  "  Well,  that's  important.  There 
was  nothing  suspicious  then,  1  suppose?" 

Mr.  Tupman  glanced  timidly  at  his  leader.  "  Why," 
he  said,  "there  was  nothing  suspicious;  but — I  don't 
know  how  it  happened,  mind— she  certainly  was  reclin- 
ing in  his  arms." 


356  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Gracious  powers!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the 
recollection  of  the  scene  in  question  struck  forcibly  upon 
him;  ^'what  a  dreadful  instance  of  the  force  of  circum- 
stances! So  she  was — so  she  was." 

"  And  our  friend  was  soothing  her  anguish/'  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  rather  maliciously. 

^'So  I  was/' said  Mr.  Pickwick.  '^I  won't  deny  it. 
So  I  was." 

Hallo!"  said  Wardle;  ^'for  a  case  in  which  there's 
nothing  suspicious,  this  looks  rather  queer — eh,  Pick- 
wick? Ah,  sly  dog — sly  dog!"  and  he  laughed  till  the 
glasses  on  the  sideboard  rang  again. 

^^What  a  dreadful  conjunction  of  appearances!"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Pickwick,  resting  his  chin  upon  his  hands. 

Winkle — Tupman — I  beg  your  pardon  for  the  observa- 
tions I  made  just  now.  We  are  all  the  victims  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  I  the  greatest."  With  this  apology, 
Mr.  Pickwick  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  rumi- 
nated; while  Wardle  measured  out  a  regular  circle  of 
nods  and  winks,  addressed  to  the  other  members  of  the 
company. 

"  ril  have  it  explained,  though,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
raising  his  head,  and  hammering  the  table.  ''I'll  see 
this  Dodson  and  Fogg!  I'll  go  to  London  to-morrow." 

"  Not  to-morrow,"  said  Wardle;  "  you're  too  lame." 

''Well,  then,  next  day." 

"  Next  day  is  the  first  of  September,  and  you're  pledged 
to  ride  out  with  us  as  far  as  Sir  Geoffrey  Manning's 
grounds,  at  all  events,  and  to  meet  us  at  lunch,  if  you 
don't  take  the  field." 

"V/ell,  then,  the  day  after,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick; 
"Thursday— Sam!" 

"Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"Take  two  places  outside  to  London,  on  Thursday 
morning,  for  yourself  and  me." 
"Worry  well,  sir." 

Mr.  Weller  left  the  room,  and  departed  slowly  on  his 
errand,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground. 

"Rum  feller,  the  hemperor,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  as  he 
walked  slowly  up  the  street.  "Think  o'  his  making  up 
to  that  ere  Mrs.  Bardell — vith  a  little  boy,  too!  Always 
the  vay  vith  these  here  old  'uns,  hows'ever,  as  is  such 
steady  goers  to  look  at.    I  didn't  think  he'd  ha'  done  it, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


257 


though — I  didn't  think  he'd  ha'  done  it!"  And  moralizing 
in  this  strain,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  bent  his  steps  towards 
the  booking-offlce. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A  PLEASANT  DAY,  WITH  AN  UNPLEASANT  TERMINATION. 

The  birds,  who,  happily,  for  their  own  peace  of  mind, 
and  personal  comfort,  were  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the 
preparations  which  had  been  making  to  astonish  them,  on 
the  first  of  September,  hailed  it,  no  doubt,  as  one  of  the 
pleasantest  mornings  they  had  seen  that  season.  Many 
a  young  partridge  who  strutted  complacently  among  the 
stubble,  with  all  the  finicking  coxcombry  of  youth,  and 
many  an  older  one  who  watched  his  levity  out  of  his 
little  round  eye,  with  the  contemptuous  air  of  a  bird  of 
wisdom  and  experience,  alike  unconscious  of  their  ap- 
proaching doom,  basked  in  the  fresh  morning  air  with 
lively  and  blithesome  feelings,  and  a  few  hours  after- 
wards were  laid  low  upon  the  earth.  But  we  grow 
affecting:  let  us  proceed. 

In  plain  common-place  matter-of-fact,  then,  it  was  a 
fine  morning — so  fine  that  you  would  scarcely  have  be- 
lieved that  the  few  months  of  an  English  summer  had 
yet  flown  by.  Hedges,  fields,  and  trees,  hill  and  moor- 
land, presented  to  the  eye  their  ever- varying  shades  of 
deep  rich  green;  scarce  a  leaf  had  fallen,  scarce  a  sprin- 
kle of  yellow  mingled  with  the  hues  of  summer,  warned 
you  that  autumn  had  begun.  The  sky  was  cloudless; 
the  sun  shone  out  bright  and  warm;  the  songs  of  birds, 
and  hum  of  myriads,  of  summer  insects,  filled  the  air; 
and  the  cottage  gardens,  crowded  with  flowers  of  every 
rich  and  beautiful  tint,  sparkled,  in  the  heavy  dew,  like 
beds  of  glittering  jewels.  Everything  bore  the  stamp 
of  summer,  and  none  of  its  beautiful  colours  had  yet 
faded  from  the  die. 

Such  was  the  morning,  when  an  open  carriage,  in 
which  were  three  Pickwickians  (Mr.  Snodgrass  having 

Preferred  to  remain  at  home),  Mr.  Warclle,  and  Mr. 
rundle,  with  Sam  Weller  on  the  box  beside  the  driver, 


258  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


pulled  up  by  a  gate  at  the  road-side,  before  which  stood 
a  tall,  raw-boned  game-keeper,  an  da  half -booted,  leather- 
leggined  boy:  each  bearing  a  bag  of  capacious  dimen- 
sions, and  accompanied  by  a  brace  of  pointers. 

"1  say,"  whispered  Mr.  Winkle  to  Wardle,  as  the  man 
let  down  the  steps,  ''they  don't  suppose  we're  going  to 
kill  game  enough  to  fill  those  bags,  do  they?" 

"  Fill  them!"  exclaimed  old  Wardle.  "  Bless  you,  yes!" 
You  shall  fill  one,  and  I  the  other;  and  when  we've  done 
with  them,  the  pockets  of  our  shooting  jackets  will  hold 
as  much  more." 

Mr.  Winkle  dismounted  without  sayirig  anything  in 
reply  to  this  observation;  but  he  thought  within  him- 
self that,  if  the  party  remained  in  the  open  air  until  he  had 
filled  one  of  the  bags,  they  stood  a  considerable  chance 
of  catching  colds  in  their  heads. 

Hi,  Juno,  lass — hi,  old  girl;  down,  Daph,  down,"  said 
Wardle,  caressing  the  dogs.  "  Sir  Geoffrey  still  in  Scot- 
land, of  course,  Martin?" 

The  tall  gamekeeper  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and 
looked  with  some  surprise  from  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was 
holding  his  gun  as  if  he  wished  his  coat  pocket  to  save 
him  the  trouble  of  palling  the  trigger,  to  Mr.  Tupman, 
who  was  holding  his  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  it — as  there 
was  no  earthly  reason  to  doubt  he  really  was. 

''My  friends  are  not  much  in  the  way  of  this  sort  of 
thing  yet,  Martin,"  said  Wardle,  noticing  the  look.  "  Live 
and  learn,  you  know.  They'll  be  good  shots  one  of  these 
days.  I  beg  my  friend  Winkle's  pardon,  though;  he 
has  had  some  practice." 

Mr.  Winkle  smiled  feebly  over  his  blue  neckerchief  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  compliment,  and  got  himself 
so  mysteriously  entangled  with  his  gun,  in  his  modest 
confusion,  that  if  the  piece  had  been  loaded,  he  must 
have  inevitably  shot  himself  dead  upon  the  spot. 

''You  mustn't  ha^ndleyour  piece  in  that  ere  way,  when 
you  come  to  have  the  charge  in  it,  sir,"  said  the  tall 
gamekeeper,  gruffly,  "or  I'm  damned  if  you  won't  make 
cold  meat  of  some  on  us." 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  admonished,  abruptly  altered  its 
position,  and  in  so  doing,  contrived  to  bring  the  barrel 
into  pretty  smart  contact  with  Mr.  Weller's  head. 

"  Hallo!"  said  Sam,  picking  up  his  hat,  which  had  been 
knocked  off,  and  rubbing  his  temple.    "  Hallo,  sir!  if 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


you  comes  it  this  vay,  you'll  fill  one  o'  them  bags,  and 
something  to  spare,  at  one  fire.'' 

Here  the  leather-leggined  boy  laughed  very  heartily, 
and  then  tried  to  look  as  if  it  was  somebody  else,  where- 
at Mr.  Winkle  frowned  majestically. 

''Where  did  you  tell  the  boy  to  meet  us  with  the 
snack,  Martin?'' inquired  Wardle. 

''Side  of  One -tree  Hill,  at  twelve  o'clock,  sir." 

"  That's  not  Sir  Geoffrey's  land,  is  it?" 

"No,  sir;  but  it's  close  by  it.  It's  Captain  Boldwig's 
land;  but  there'll  be  nobody  to  interrupt  us,  and  there's 
a  fine  bit  of  turf  there." 

"Very  well,"  said  old  Wardle.  "Now  the  sooner 
we're  off  the  better.  Will  you  join  us  at  twelve,  then, 
Pickwick?" 

"Mr.  Pickwick  was  particularly  desirious  to  view  the 
sport,  the  more  especially  as  he  was  rather  anxious  in 
respect  of  Mr.  Winkle's  life  and  limbs.  On  so  inviting 
a  morning,  too,  it  was  very  tantalizing  to  turn  back, 
and  leave  his  friends  to  enjoy  thernselves.  It  waSj  there- 
fore, with  a  very  rueful  air  that  he  replied: 

"  Why,  I  suppose  I  must." 

"  An't  the  gentleman  a  shot,  sir?"  inquired  the  long 
gamekeeper. 

"  No,"  replied  Wardle;  "  and  he's  lame  besides." 

"I  should  very  much  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"  very  much." 

There  was  a  short  pause  of  commiseration. 

"There's  a  barrow  t'other  side  the  hedge,"  said  the 
boy.  "If  the  gentleman's  servant  would  wheel  along 
the  paths,  he  could  keep  nigh  us,  and  we  could  lift  it 
over  the  stiles  and  that." 

"  The  worry  thing,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  was  a  party 
interested,  inasmuch  as  he  ardently  longed  to  see  the 
sport.  "  The  worry  thing.  Well  said,  Smallcheck;  I'll 
have  it  out  in  a  n^inute." 

But  here  a  difficulty  arose.  The  long  gamekeeper  re- 
solutely protested  against  the  introduction  into  a  shoot- 
ing party  of  a  gentleman  in  a  barrow,  as  a  gross  viola- 
tion of  all  established  rules  and  precedents. 

It  was  a  great  objection,  but  not  an  insurmountable 
one.  The  gamekeeper  having  been  coaxed  and  feed, 
and  having,  moreover,  eased  his  mind  by  "punching" 
the  head  of  the  inventive  youth  who  had  first  suggested 


260  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  use  of  the  machine,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  placed  in  it, 
and  off  the  party  set;  Wardle  and  the  long  gamekeeper 
leading  the  way,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  barrow,  pro- 
pelled by  Sam,  bringing  up  the  rear. 

Stop,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  they  had  got 
half  across  the  first  field. 

''What's  the  matter  now?"  said  Wardle. 

"  I  won't  suffer  this  barrow  to  be  moved  another  step," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  resolutely,  ''unless  Winkle  carries 
that  gun  of  his  in  a  different  manner." 

"How  am  I  to  carry  it?"  said  the  wretched  Winkle. 

"  Carry  it  with  the  muzzle  to  the  ground/'  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  It's  so  unsportsman-like,"  reasoned  Winkle. 

"  I  don't  care  whether  it  is  unsportsman-like  or  not," 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  "I  am  not  going  to  be  shot  in  a 
wheelbarrow,  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  to  please 
anybody.'^ 

"I  know  the  gentleman  '11  put  that  ere  charge  into 
somebody  afore  he's  done,"  growled  the  long  man. 

"Well,  well — I  don't  mind,"  said  poor  Mr.  Winkle, 
turning  his  gunstock  uppermost— "there." 

"  Anythin'  for  a  quiet  life,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  and  on 
they  went  again. 

"  Stop!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  they  had  gone  a  few 
yards  further. 

"What  now?"  said  Wardle. 

"That  gun  of  Mr.  Tupman's  is  not  safe:  I  know  it 
isn't,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Eh?  What!  not  safe?"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  a  tone 
of  great  alarm. 

"  Not  as  you  are  carrying  it,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  I 
am  very  sorry  to  make  any  further  objection,  but  I  can- 
not consent  to  go  on,  unless  you  carry  it  as  Winkle 
does  his." 

"  I  think  you  had  better,  sir,"  said  the  long  game- 
keeper, "  or  you're  quite  as  likely  to  lodge  the  charge  in 
yourself  as  in  anything  else." 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  the  most  obliging  haste,  placed  his 
piece  in  the  position  required,  and  the  party  moved  on 
again;  the  two  amateurs  marching  with  reversed  arms, 
like  a  couple  of  privates  at  a  royal  funeral. 

The  dogs  suddenly  came  to  a  dead  stop,  and  the  party 
advancing  stealthily  a  single  pace,  stopped  too. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


261 


What's  the  matter  with  the  dogs'  legs?"  whispered 
Mr.  Winkle.    ^'How  queer  they're  standing." 

''Hush,  can't  you?"  replied  Wardle,  softly.  ''Don't 
you  see,  they're  making  a  point?" 

"Making  a  point!"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  staring  about 
him,  as  if  he  expected  to  discover  some  particular  beauty 
in  the  landscape,  which  the  sagacious  animals  were 
calling  special  attention  to.  "  Making  a  point!  What 
are  they  pointing  at?" 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open,"  said  Wardle,  not  heeding  the 
question  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment.  "Now  then." 

There  was  a  sharp  whirring  noise,  that  made  Mr. 
Winkle  start  back  as  if  he  had  been  shot  himself.  Bang, 
bang,  went  a  couple  of  guns— the  smoke  swept  quickly 
away  over  the  field,  and  curled  into  the  air. 

"Where  are  they?"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in  a  state  of  the 
highest  excitement,  turning  round  and  round  in  all 
directions.  "Where  are  they?"  Tell  me  when  to  fire. 
Where  are  they — where  are  they?" 

"  Where  are  they?"  said  Wardle,  taking  up  a  brace  of 
birds  which  the  dogs  had  deposited  at  his  feet.  "  Where 
are  they!   Why,  here  they  are." 

"No,  no;  I  mean  the  others/'  said  the  bewildered 
Winkle. 

"Far  enough  off,  by  this  time,"  replied  Wardle,  coolly 
reloading  his  gun. 

"We  shall  very  likely  be  up  with  another  covey  in 
five  minutes,"  said  the  long  gamekeeper.  "  If  the  gen- 
tleman begins  to  fire  now,  perhaps  he'll  just  get  the  shot 
out  of  the  barrel  by  the  time  they  rise." 

"  Ha!  ha!  ha!"  roared  Mr.  Weller. 

"Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  compassionating  his  fol- 
lower's confusion  and  embarrassment. 

"Sir." 

"Don't  laugh." 

"Certainly  not,  sir."  So,  by  way  of  indemnification, 
Mr.  Weller  contorted  his  features  from  behind  the 
wheelbarrow,  for  the  exclusive  amusemeiit  of  the  boy 
with  the  leggings,  who  thereupon  burst  into  a  boisterous 
laugh,  and  was  summarily  cuffed  by  the  long  game- 
keeper, who  wanted  a  pretext  for  turning  round,  to  hide 
his  own  merriment. 

"Bravo,  old  fellow!"  said  Wardle  to  Mr.  Tupman; 
"  you  fired  that  time,  at  all  events." 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

^^Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  with  conscious  pride, 
'a  let  it  off.'' 

Well  done.  You'll  hit  something  next  time,  if  you 
look  sharp.    Very  easy,  ain't  it?" 

^'Yes,  it's  very  easy,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  ''How  it 
hurts  one's  shoulder,  though.  It  nearly  knocked  me 
backwards.  I  had  no  idea  these  small  fire-arms  kicked 
so." 

''Ah,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  smiling;  "you'll  get 
used  to  it  in  time.  Now  then— all  ready — all  right  with 
the  barrow  there?" 

"All  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Come  along,  then." 

"Hold  hard,  sir,"  said  Sam,  raising  the  barrow. 

"Aye,  aye,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  on  they  went, 
as  briskly  as  need  be. 

"Keep  that  barrow  back  now,"  cried  Wardle,  when  it 
had  been  hoisted  over  a  stile  into  another  field,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  been  deposited  in  it  once  more. 

"All  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  pausing. 

"Now,  Winkle,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "follow  me 
softly,  and  don't  be  too  late  this  time." 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  Are  they  pointing?  " 

"No,  no;  not  now.  Quietly  now,  quietly."  On  they 
crept,  and  very  quietly  they  would  have  advanced,  if 
Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  performance  of  some  very  intricate 
evolutions  with  his  gun,  had  not  accidentally  fired,  at 
the  most  critical  moment,  over  the  boy's  head,  exactly 
in  the  very  spot  where  the  tall  man's  brain  would  have 
been,  had  he  been  there  instead. 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for?"  said  old 
Wardle,  as  the  birds  flew  unharmed  away. 

"  I  never  saw  siich  a  gun  in  my  life,"  replied  poor 
Winkle,  looking  at  the  lock,  as  if  that  would  do  any 
good.     "  It  goes  off,  of  its  own  accord.    It  will  do  it." 

"  Will  do  it!"  echoed  Wardle,  with  something  of  irrita- 
tion in  his  manner.  "I  wish  it  would  kill  something  of 
its  own  accord." 

"  It'll  do  that  afore  long,  sir,"  observed  the  tall  man, 
in  a  low,  prophetic  voice. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  observation,  sir?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Winkle,  angrily. 

"  Never  mind,  sir,  never  mind,"  replied  the  long  game- 
keeper; "I've  no  family  myself,  sir;  and  this  here  boy's 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


«63 


mother  will  get  something  handsome  from  Sir  Geoffrey, 
if  he's  killed  on  his  land.    Load  again,  sir,  load  again.'' 

''Take  away  his  gun,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the 
barrow,  horror  stricken  at  the  long  man's  insinuations. 
"  Take  away  his  gun,  do  you  hear,  somebody  ?" 

Nobody,  however,  volunteered  to  obey 'the  command; 
and  Mr.  Winkle,  after  darting  a  rebellious  glance  at  Mr. 
Pickwick,  reloaded  his  gun,  and  proceeded  onwards  with  ^ 
the  rest. 

We  are  bound,  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  to 
state,  that  Mr.  Tupman's  mode  of  proceeding  evinced 
far  more  prudence  and  deliberation,  than  that  adopted 
by  Mr.  Winkle.  Still,  this  by  no  means  detracts  from 
the  great  authority  of  the  latter  gentleman,  on  all  'mat- 
ters connected  with  the  field;  because,  as  Mr.  Pickwick 
beautifully  observes,  it  has  somehow  or  other  happened, 
from  time  immemorial,  that  many  of  the  best  and  ablest 
philosophers,  who  have  been  perfect  lights  of  science  in 
matters  of  theory,  have  been  wholly  unable  to  reduce 
them  to  practice. 

Mr.  Tupman's  process,  like  many  of  our  most  sublime 
discoveries,  was  extremely  simple.  With  the  quick- 
ness and  penetration  of  a  man  of  genius,  he  had  at  once 
observed  that  the  two  great  points  to  be  attained  were — 
first,  to  discharge  his  piece  without  injury  to  himself, 
and,  secondly,  to  do  so  vfithout  danger  to  the  by- 
standers— obviously,  the  best  thing  to  do,  after  sur- 
mounting the  difficulty  of  firing  at  all,  was  to  shut  his 
eyes  firmly,  and  fire  into  the  air. 

On  one  occasion,  after  performing  this  feat,  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  on  opening  his  eyes,  beheld  a  plump  partridge  in 
the  very  act  of  falling  wounded  to  the  ground.  He  was 
on  the  point  of  congratulating  Mr.  Wardle  on  his  invari- 
able success,  when  that  gentleman  advanced  towards 
him,  and  grasped  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  Tupman,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  you  singled  out 
that  particular  bird  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Tupman—''  no." 

"You  did,"  said  Wardle.  "I  saw  you  do  it — I  ob- 
served you  pick  him  out — I  noticed  you,  as  you  raised 
your  piece  to  take  aim;  and  I  will  say  this,  the  best  sliot 
m  existence  could  not  have  done  it  more  beautifully. 
You  are  an  older  hand  at  this,  than  I  thought  you, 
Tupman;  you  have  been  out  before." 


264  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


It  was  in  vain  for  Mr.  Tupman  to  protest,  with  a  smile 
of  self-denial,  that  he  never  had.  The  very  smile  was 
taken  as  evidence  to  the  contrary;  and  from  that  time 
forth,  his  reputation  was  established.  It  is  not  the  only 
reputation  that  has  been  acquired  as  easily  ,  nor  are  such 
fortunate  circumstances  confined  to  partridge-shooting. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Winkle  flashed,  and  blazed,  and 
smoked  away,  without  producing  any  material  results 
worthy  of  being  noted  down;  sometimes  expending  his 
charge  in  mid-air,  and  at  others  sending  it  skimming 
along  so  near  the  surface  of  the  ground,  as  to  place  the 
lives  of  the  two  dogs  on  a  rather  uncertain  and  precari- 
ous tenure.  As  a  display  of  fancy  shooting,  it  was  ex- 
tremely varied  and  curious;  as  an  exhibition  of  firing 
with  any  precise  object,  it  was  upon  the  whole  perhaps 
a  failure.  It  is  an  established  axiom,  that  every  bul- 
let has  its  billet."  If  it  apply  in  an  equal  degree  to  shot, 
those  of  Mr.  Winkle  were  unfortunate  foundlings,  de- 
prived of  their  natural  rights,  cast  loose  upon  the  world, 
and  billeted  nowhere. 

''Well,"  said  V/ardle,  walking  up  to  the  side  of  the 
barrow,  and  wiping  the  streams  of  perspiration  from 
his  jolly  red  face:  "  smoking  day,  isn't  it  ? " 

''It  is,  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "The  sun  is 
tremendously  hot,  even  to  me.  I  don't  know  how  you 
must  feel  it." 

"Why,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "pretty  hot.  It's 
past  twelve,  though.    You  see  that  green  hill  there  ? " 
"Certainly." 

"That's  the  place  where  we  are  to  lunch;  and,  by 
Jove,  there's  the  boy  with  the  basket,  punctual  as  clock- 
work ! " 

"So  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  brightening  up. 
"  Good  boy,  that.  I'll  give  him  a  shilling,  presently. 
Now,  then,  Sam,  wheel  away." 

"Hold  on,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  invigorated  with  the 
prospects  of  refreshments.  "  Out  of  the  vay,  young 
leathers.  If  you  walley  my  precious  life  don't  upset  me, 
as  the  gen'l'man  said  to  the  driver,  when  they  was  a 
carry  in'  him  to  Tyburn."  And  quickening  his  pace  to 
a  sharp  run,  Mr.  Weller  wheeled  his  master  nimbly 
to  the  green  hill,  shot  him  dexterously  out  by  the  very 
^ide  of  the  basket,  and  proceeded  to  unpack  it  with  the 
utmost  despatch. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


S6S 


Weal  pie,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  soliloquizing,  as  he  ar- 
ranged the  eatables  on  the  grass.  "  Werry  good  thing 
is  a  weal  pie,  when  you  know  the  lady  as  made  it,  and  is 
quite  sure  it  an't  kittens;  and  arter  all,  though,  where's 
the  odds,  when  they're  so  like  weal  that  the  werry  pie- 
men themselves  don't  know  the  difference  ?  " 

''Don't  they,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Not  they,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  touching  his  hat. 
"I lodged  in  the  same  house  with  a  pieman  once,  sir, 
and  a  werry  nice  man  he  was — reg'lar  clever  chap,  too — 
make  pies  out  o'  anything,  he  could.  '  What  a  number 
o'  cats  j^ou  keep,  Mr.  Brooks,'  says  I,  when  I  got  inti- 
mate with  him.  'Ah,'  says  he,  'I  do — a  good  many,' 
says  he.  'You  must  be  werry  fond  o'  cats,'  says  I. 
'  Other  people  is,'  says  he,  a  winkin'  at  me;  '  they  ain't 
in  season  till  the  winter,  though,'  says  he.  '  Not  in  sea- 
son!' says  I.  'No,' says  he,  'fruits  is  in,  cats  is  out.' 
'Why,  what  do  you  mean?'  says  I.  'Mean?'  says  he. 
'  That  I'll  never  be  a  party  to  the  combination  o'  the 
butchers  to  keep  up  the  prices  o'  meat,'  says  he.  '  Mr. 
Weller,  says  he,  a  squeezing  my  hand  werry  hard,  and 
vispering  in  my  ear,'  '  don't  mention  this  here  agin — but 
it's  the  seasonin'  as  does  it.  They're  all  made  o'  them 
noble  animals,'  says  he,  a-pointin'  to  a  werry  nice  little 
tabby  kitten,  'and  I  seasons  'em  for  beefsteak,  weal, 
or  kidney,  'cordin'  to  the  demand.  'And  more  than  that,' 
says  he,  '  I  can  make  a  weal  a  beefsteak,  or  a  beefsteak 
a  kidney,  or  any  one  on  'em  a  mutton,  at  a  minute's 
notice,  just  as  the  market  changes,  and  appetites 
wary!' " 

"He  must  have  been  a  very  ingenious  young  man, 
that,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  slight  shudder. 

"Just  was,  sir"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  continuing  his  oc- 
cupation of  emptying  the  basket.  "And  the  pies  v/ as 
beautiful.  Tongue ;  well  that's  a  werry  good  thing  when 
it  an't  a  woman's.  Bread — knuckle  o'  ham,  reg'lar  pic- 
ter — cold  beef  in  slices,  werry  good.  '  What's  in  them 
stone  jars,  young  touch-and-go?" 

"Beer  in  this  one,"  replied  the  boy,  taking  from  hie. 
shoulder  a  couple  of  large  stone  bottles,  fastened  to- 
gether by  a  leathern  strap — "cold  punch  in  t'other." 

"And  a  werry  good  notion  of  a  lunch  it  is,  take  it 
altogether,"  saia  Mr.  Weller,  surveying  his  arrangement 
of  the  repast  with  great  satisfaction.   "  Now,  genTmeU; 


MB  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^fall  on/  as  the  English  said  to  the  French  when  they 
fixed  bagginets." 

It  needed  no  second  invitation  to  induce  the  party  to 
yield  full  justice  to  the  meal;  and  as  little  pressing  did 
it  require  to  induce  Mr.  Weller,  the  long  gamekeeper, 
and  the  two  boys,  to  station  themselves  on  the  grass  at 
a  little  distance,  and  do  good  execution  upon  a  decent 
proportion  of  the  viands.  An  old  oak  tree  afforded  a 
pleasant  shelter  to  the  group,  and  a  rich  prospect  of 
arable  and  meadow  land,  intersected  with  luxuriant 
hedges,  and  richly  ornamented  with  wood,  lay  spread 
out  below  them. 

''This  is  delightful — thoroughly  delightful!"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  the  skin  of  whose  expressive  countenance 
was  rapidly  peeling  off  with  exposure  to  the  sun. 

''  So  it  is:  so  it  is,  old  fellow/'  replied  War  die.  ''  Come, 
a  glass  of  punch." 

''With  great  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  the 
satisfaction  of  his  countenance  after  drinking  it  bore 
testimony  to  the  sincerity  of  the  reply. 

"  Good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smacking  his  lips.  "  Very 
good,  ril  take  another.  Cool;  very  cool.  Come,  gen- 
tlemen," continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  still  retaining  his 
hold  upon  the  jar,  "a  toast.  Our  friends  at  Dingley 
Dell." 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  loud  acclamations. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  shall  do,  to  get  up  my  shooting 
again,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  eating  bread  and  ham 
with  a  pocket-knife.  "  I'll  put  a  stuffed  partridge  on  the 
top  of  a  post,  and  practise  at  it,  beginning  at  a  short  dis- 
tance, and  lengthening  it  by  degrees.  I  understand  it's 
capital  practice." 

"I  know  a  gen'l'man,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,"as  did 
that,  and  begun  at  two  yards;  but  he  never  tried  it  on 
agin ;  for  he  blowed  the  bird  right  clean  away  at  the 
first  fire,  and  nobody  ever  seed  a  feather  on  him  arter- 
vv^ards." 

"Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  reserve  your  anecdotes 'till 
they  are  called  for." 
"  Cert'nly,  sir." 

Here  Mr.  Weller  winked  the  eye  which  was  not  con- 
cealed by  the  beer-can  he  was  raising  to  his  lips,  with 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


267 


such  exquisiteness,  that  the  two  boys  went  into  sponta- 
neous convulsions,  and  even  the  long  man  condescended 
to  smile. 

Well,  that  certainly  is  most  capital  cold  punch,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  earnestly  at  the  stone  bottle; 
'•and  the  day  is  extremely  warm,  and — Tupman,  my 
dear  friend,  a  glass  of  punch?" 

'^With  the  greatest  delight,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman; 
and  having  drank  that  glass,  Mr.  Pickv/ick  took  another 
just  to  see  whether  there  was  any  orange  peel  in  the 
punch,  because  orange  peel  always  disagreed  with  him; 
and  finding  that  there  was  not,  Mr.  Pickwick  took 
another  glass  to  the  health  of  their  absent  friend,  and 
then  felt  himself  imperatively  called  upon  to  propose 
another  in  honour  of  the'punch-compounder,  unknown. 

This  constant  succession  of  glasses  produced  consid- 
erable effect  upon  Mr.  Pickwick;  his  countenance  beamed 
with  the  most  sunny  smiles,  laughter  played  around  his 
lips,  and  good-humoured  merriment  tw^inkled  in  his  eye. 
Yielding  by  degrees  to  the  influence  of  the  exciting 
liquid,  rendered  more  so  by  the  heat,  Mr.  Pickwick  ex- 
];ressed  a  strong  desire  to  recollect  a  song  which  he  had 
heard  in  his  infancy,  and  the  attempt  proving  abortive, 
sought  to  stimulate  his  memory  with  more  glasses  of 
punch,  which  appeared  to  have  quite  a  contrary  effect; 
for,  from  forgetting  the  words  of  the  song,  he  began  to 
forget  how  to  articulate  any  word  at  all,  and  finally, 
after  rising  to  his  legs  to  address  the  company  in  an 
eloquent  speech,  he  fell  into  the  barrow,  and  fast  asleep, 
simultaneously. 

The  basket  having  been  repacked,  and  it  being  found 
perfectly  impossible  to  awaken  Mr.  Pickwick  from  his 
torpor,  some  discussion  took  place  whether  it  would  be 
better  for  Mr.  Weller  to  wheel  his  master  back  again,  or 
to  leave  him  where  he  was,  until  they  should  all  bo 
ready  to  return.  The  latter  course  was  at  length  decided 
on;  and  as  their  further  expedition  was  not  to  exceed  an 
hour's  duration,  and  as  Mr.  Weller  begged  very  hard  to 
be  one  of  the  party,  it  was  determined  to  leave  Mr.  Pick- 
wick asleep  in  the  barrow,  and  to  call  for  him  on  their 
return.  So  away  they  went,  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick 
snoring  most  comfortably  in  the  shade. 

That  Mr.  Pickwick  would  have  continued  to  snore  in 
the  shade  until  his  friends  came  back,  or,  in  default 


%68  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


thereof,  until  the  shades  of  evening  had  fallen  on  the 
landscape,  there  appears  no  reasonable  cause  to  doubt; 
i^Jways  supposing  that  he  had  been  suffered  to  remain 
there  in  peace.  But  he  was  not  suffered  to  remain  there 
in  peace.    And  this  is  what  prevented  him. 

Captain  Boldwig  was  a  little  fierce  man  in  a  stiff  black 
neckerchief  and  blue  surtout,  who,  when  he  did  con- 
descend to  walk  about  his  property,  did  it  in  company 
with  a  thick  rattan  stick  with  a  brass  ferrule,  and  a  gar- 
dener and  a  sub-gardener  with  meek  faces,  to  whom  (the 
gardeners,  not  the  stick)  Captain  Boldwig  gave  his  orders 
with  all  due  grandeur  and  ferocity;  for  Captain  Bold- 
wig's  wife's  sister  had  married  a  Marquis,  and  the  Cap- 
tain's house  was  a  villa,  and  his  land  ''grounds,"  and  it 
was  all  very  high,  and  mighty,  and  great. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  been  asleep  half  an  hour,  when 
little  Captain  Boldwig,  followed  by  the  two  gardeners, 
came  striding  along  as  fast  as  his  size  and  importance 
would  let  him;  and  when  he  came  near  the  oak  tree. 
Captain  BoldAvig  paused,  and  drew  a  long  breath,  and 
looked  at  the  prospect,  as  if  he  thought  the  prospect 
ought  to  be  highly  gratified  at  having  him  to  take  notice 
of  it;  and  then  he  struck  the  ground  emphatically  with 
his  stick,  and  summoned  the  head  gardener. 
Hunt,"  said  Captain  Boldwig. 
Yes  sir,"  said  the  gardener. 

''Roll  this  place  to-morrow  morning — do  you  hear, 
Hunt  ?  " 

'"'  Yes,  sir." 

''And  take  care  that  you  keep  me  this  place  in  good 
order — do  you  hear,  Hunt  ?  " 
"Yes,  sir." 

"And  remind  me  to  have  a  board  done  about  tres- 
passers, and  spring  guns,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  to 
keep  the  common  people  out.  Do  you  hear,  Hunt;  do 
you  hear  ?  " 

"I'll  not  forget  it,  sir." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  other  man,  advanc- 
ing, with  his  hand  to  his  hat. 

"Well,  Wilkins,  what's  the  matter  with  you  f  said 
Captain  Boldwig. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir — but  I  think  there  have  been 
trespassers  here  to-day."  , 

"  Ha  !"  said  the  Captain,  scowling  around  him. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  269 

Yes,  sir— they  have  been  dining  here,  I  think,  sir." 
"Why,  confound  their  audacity,  so  they  have,"  said 
Captain  Boldwig,  as  the  crumbs  and  fragments  that 
were  strewn  upon  the  grass  met  his  eye.  They  have 
actually  been  devouring  their  food  here.  I  wish  I  had 
the  vagabonds  here  I "  said  the  Captain,  clenching  the 
thick  stick. 

"  I  wish  I  had  the  vagabonds  here,"  said  the  Captain, 
wrathfully. 

''Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Wilkins,  ''but — " 

"But  what?  Eh?"  roared  the  Captain;  and  following 
the  timid  glance  of  Wilkins,  his  eyes  encountered  the 
wheelbarrow  and  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Who  are  you,  you  rascal?"  said  the  Captain,  admin- 
istering several  pokes  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  body  with  the 
thick  stick.    ' '  What's  your  name  ? " 

"  Cold  punch,"  murmured  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  sunk 
to  sleep  again. 

"What?"  demanded  Captain  Boldwig. 

No  reply. 

"What  did  he  say  his  name  was?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"Punch,  I  think,  sir,"  replied  Wilkins. 

"  That's  his  impudence — that's  his  confounded  impu- 
dence," said  Captain  Boldwig.  "  He's  only  feigning  to 
be  asleep,  now,"  said  the  Captain,  in  a  high  passion. 

He's-^jarunk;  he's  a  drunken  plebeian.  Wheel  him 
awa.y,  Wilkins;  wheel  him  away  directly." 

"Where  shall  I  wheel  him  to,  sir?"  inquired  Wilkins, 
with  great  timidity. 

"Wheel  him  to  the  devil,"  replied  Captain  Boldwig. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  Wilkins. 

"Stay,"  said  the  Captain. 

Wilkins  stopped  accordingly. 

"  Wheel  him,"  said  the  Captain,  "wheel  him  to  the 
Pound;  and  let  us  see  whether  he  calls  himself  Punch, 
when  he  comes  to  himself.  He  shall  not  bully  me — he 
shall  not  bully  me.    Wheel  him  away." 

Away  Mr.  Pickwick  was  wheeled  in  compliance  with 
this  imperious  mandate;  and  the  great  Captain  Bold- 
wig, swelling  with  indignation,  proceeded  on  his  walk. 

Inexpressible  was  the  astonishment  of  the  little  party, 
when  they  returned,  to  find  that  Mr.  Pickwick  had  dis- 
appeared, and  taken  the  wheelbarrow  with  him.  It  was 
the  most  mysterious  and  unaccountable  thing  that  was 


270  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ever  heard  of.    For  a  lame  man  to  have  got  upon  his 
legs  without  any  previous  notice,  and  walked  off,  would 
have  been  most  extraordinary  ;  but  when  it  came  to  his 
wheeling  a  heavy  barrow  before  him,  by  way  of  amuse- 
ment, it  grew  positively  miraculous.    They  searched 
every  nook  and  corner  round,  together  and  separately; 
1  they  shouted,  whistled,  laughed,  called — and  all  with 
I  the  same  result.    Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  to  be  found. 
'  After  some  hours  of  fruitless  search,  they  arrived  at  the 
unwelcome  conclusion  that  they  must  go  home  without 
him. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  wheeled  to  the 
Pound,  and  safely  deposited  therein,  fast  asleep  in  the 
wheelbarrow,  to  the  immeasurable  delight  and  satisfac- 
tion, not  only  of  all  the  boys  in  the  village,  but  three- 
fourths  of  the  whole  population,  who  had  gathered 
round,  in  expectation  of  his  waking.  If  their  most 
intense  gratification  had  been  excited  by  seeing  him 
wheeled  in,  how  many  hundredfold  was  their  joy  in- 
creased when,  after  a  few  indistinct  cries  of  ^'Sam!"  he 
sat  up  in  the  barrow  and  gazed  with  indescribable  as- 
tonishment on  the  faces  before  him. 

A  general  shout  was  of  course  the  signal  of  his  having 
woke  up;  and  his  involuntary  inquiry  of  What's  the 
matter?"  occasioned  another,  louder  than  the  first,  if 
possible. 

'^Here's  a  game!"  roared  the  populace. 
Where  am  I?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  In  the  Pound,"  replied  the  mob. 

"  How  came  I  here?  What  was  I  doing?  Where  was 
I  brought  from?" 

"  Bold  wig — Captain  Boldwig! "  was  the  only  reply. 
I    ''Let  me  out,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick.    ''Where's  my 
'servant?   Where  are  my  friends?" 

"You  an't  got  no  friends.  Hurrah!"  Then  there 
came  a  turnip,  then  a  potato,  and  then  an  egg:  with  a 
few  other  little  tokens  of  the  playful  disposition  of  the 
many-headed. 

How  long  this  scene  might  have  lasted,  or  how  much 
Mr.  Pickwick  might  have  suffered,  no  one  can  tell,  had 
not  a  carriage,  which  was  driving  swiftly  by,  suddenly 
pulled  up,  from  whence  there  descended  old  Wardle  and 
Sam  Weller,  the  former  of  whom,  in  far  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  write  it,  if  not  to  read  it,  had  made  his  way 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  •  m 


to  Mr.  Pick^yick's  side,  and  placed  him  in  the  vehicle, 
just  as  the  latter  had  concluded  the  third  and  last  round 
of  a  single  combat  with  the  town-beadle. 

"  Run  to  the  Justice's! "  cried  a  dozen  voices. 
Ah,  run  avay/'  said  Mr.  Weller,  jumping  up  on  the 
box.  Give  my  compliments — Mr.  Veller's  compli- 
ments— to  the  Justice,  and  tell  him  F  ve  spiled  his  beadle, 
and  that,  if  he'll  svear  in  a  new  'un,  I'll  come  back 
again  to-morrow  and  spile  him.    Drive  on,  old  feller." 

"  I'll  give  directions  for  the  commencement  of  an  ac- 
tion for. false  imprisonment  against  this  Captain  Bold- 
wig,  directly  I  get  to  London,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as 
soon  as  the  carriage  turned  out  of  the  town. 

"  We  were  trespassing,  it  seems,"  said  Wardle. 
I  don't  care,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,     I'll  bring  the 
action." 

No,  you  won't,"  said  Wardle. 

"  I  will,  by — "  but  as  there  was  a  humourous  expres- 
sion in  Wardle's  face,  Mr.  Pickwick  checked  himself, 
and  said,  "  Why  not?  " 

"  Because,"  said  old  Wardle,  half  bursting  into  laugh- 
ter, "  because  they  might  turn,  round  on  some  of  us,  and 
say  we  had  taken  too  much  cold  punch." 

Do  what  he  would,  a  smile  v/ould  come  into  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's face;  the  smile  extended  into  a  laugh;  the  laugh 
into  a  roar;  and  the  roar  became  general.  So,  to  keep 
up  their  good  humour,  they  stopped  at  the  first  road- 
side tavern  they  came  to,  and  ordered  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  water  all  round,  with  a  magnum  of  extra  strength, 
for  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 


m    •  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SHOWING  HOW  DODSON  AND  FOGG  WERE  MEN  Olf^  BUSINESS, 
AND  THEIR  CLERKS  MEN  OF  PLEASURE;  AND  HOW  AN 
AFFECTING  INTERVIEW  TOOK  PLACE  BETWEEN  MR.  WEL- 
LER  AND  HIS  LONG-LOST  PARENT;  SHOWING  ALSO  WHAT 
CHOICE  SPIRITS  ASSEMBLED  AT  THE  MAGPIE  AND  STUMP, 
AND  WHAT  A  CAPITAL  CHAPTER  THE  NEXT  ONE  WILL  BE. 

In  the  ground-floor  front  of  a  dingy  house,  at  the  very- 
furthest  end  of  Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill,  sat  the  four 
clerks  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  two  of  his  Majesty's 
Attorneys  of  the  Courts  of  King's  Bench  and  Common 
Pleas  at  Westminster,  and  solicitors  of  the  High  Court 
of  Chancery:  the  aforesaid  clerks  catching  as  favoura- 
ble glimpses  of  Heaven's  light  and  Heaven's  sun,  in  the 
course  of  their  daily  labours,  as  a  man  might  hope  to  do, 
v^ere  he  placed  at  the  bottom  of  a  reasonably  deep  well; 
and  without  the  opportunity  of  perceiving  the  stars  in 
the  day-time,  which  the  latter  secluded  situation  affords. 

The  clerks'  office  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  was  a 
dark,  mouldy,  earthy-smelling  room,  with  a  high  wains- 
cotted  partition  to  screen  the  clerks  from  the  vulgar 
gaze:  a  couple  of  old  wooden  chairs:  a  very  loud-ticking 
clock:  an  almanack,  an  umbrella-stand,  a  row  of  hat- 
pegs,  and  a  few  shelves,  on  which  were  deposited  several 
ticketed  bundles  of  dirty  papers,  some  old  deal  boxes 
with  paper  labels,  and  sundry  decayed  stone  ink  bottles 
of  various  shapes  and  sizes.  There  was  a  glass  door 
leading  into  the  passage  which  formed  the  entrance  to 
the  court,  and  on  the  outer  side  of  this  glass  door,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  closely  followed  by  Sam  Weller,  presented 
himself  on  the  Friday  morning  succeeding  the  occur- 
rence, of  which  a  faithful  narration  is  given  in  the  last 
chapter. 

^^Come  in,  can't  you!"  cried  a  voice  from  behind  the 

Sartition,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  gentle  tap  at  the 
oor.    And  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  entered  accordingly. 
Mr.  Dodson  or  Mr.  Fogg  at  home,  sir?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  gently  advancing,  hat  in  hand,  towards  the 
partition. 


Pickwick  Papers. 


MB.  PICKWICK  IN  THE  POUND. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  273 

Mr.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  particu- 
larly engaged,"  replied  the  voice;  at  the  same  time  the 
head  to  which  the  voice  belonged,  with  a  pen  behind  its 
ear,  looked  over  the  partition,  and  at  Mr.  Pickwick. 

It  was  a  ragged  head,  the  sandy  hair  of  which,  scru- 
pulously parted  on  one  side,  and  flattened  down  with  po- 
matum, was  twisted  into  little  serni-circular  tails  round 
a  flat  face  ornamented  with  a  pair  of  small  eyes,  and 
garnished  with  a  very  dirty  shirt  collar,  and  a  rusty 
black  stock. 

Mr.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  particu- 
larly engaged,"  said  the  man  to  whom  the  head  belonged. 

''When  will  Mr.  Dodson  be  back,  sir?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''Can't  say." 

"  Will  it  be  long  before  Mr.  Fogg  is  disengaged,  sir?" 
"Don't  know." 

Here  the  man  proceeded  to  mend  his  pen  with  great 
deliberation,  while  another  clerk,  who  was  mixing  a 
Seidlitz  powder,  under  cover  of  the  lid  of  his  desk, 
laughed  approvingly. 

"  I  think  I'll  wait,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  There  was  no 
reply,  so  Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  unbidden,  and  listened 
to  the  loud  ticking  of  the  clock  and  the  murmured  con- 
versation of  the  clerks. 

"  That  was  a  game,  wasn't  it?"  said  one,  of  the  gentle- 
men, in  a  brown  coat  and  brass  buttons,  inky  drabs,  and 
bluc]pLers,  at  the  conclusion  of  some  inaudible  relation  of 
his  previous  evening's  adventures. 

"  Devilish  good — devilish  good,"  said  the  Seidlitz-pow- 
der  man. 

"  Tom  Cummins  was  in  the  chair,"  said  the  man  with 
the  brown  coat.  "It  was  half -past  four  when  I  got  to 
Somers  Town,  and  then  I  was  so  uncommon  lushy  that 
I  couldn't  find  the  place  where  the  latch-key  went  in, 
and  was  obliged  to  knock  up  the  old  'ooman.  I  say,  I 
wonder  what  old  Fogg  'ud  say  if  he  knew  it.  I  should 
get  the  sack,  I  s'pose— eh?" 

At  this  humourous  notion  all  the  clerks  laughed  in 
concert. 

"  There  was  such  a  game  with  Fogg  here,  this  morn- 
in',"  said  the  man  in  the  brown  coat,  "while  Jack  was 
up  stairs  sorting  the  papers,  and  you  two  were  gone  to 
the  stamp-ofl&ce.    Fogg  was  down  here  opening  the  let- 


274  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ters,  when  that  chap  as  we  issued  the  writ  against  at 
Camberwell,  you  know,  came  in — what's  his  name 
again?" 

Ramsey/' said  the  glerk  who  had  spoken  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'^Ah,  Ramsey — a  precious  seedy-looking  customer. 
'  Well,  sir/  says  old  Fogg,  looking  at  him  very  fierce 
— you  know  his  way — 'well,  sir,  have  you  come  to 
settle?'  '  Yes,  I  have,  sir,'  said  Ramsey,  putting  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  and  bringing  out  the  money;  'the 
debt's  two  pound  ten,  and  the  costs  three  pound  five, 
and  here  it  is,  sir;'  and  he  sighed  like  bricks,  as  he  lug- 
ged out  the  money,  done  up  in  a  bit  of  blotting-paper. 
Old  Fogg  looked  first  at  the  money,  and  then  at  him, 
and  then  he  coughed  in  his  rum  way,  so  that  I  knew 
something  was  coming.  'You  don't  know  there's  a 
declaration  filed,  which  increases  the  costs  materially^  I 
suppose?'  said  Fogg.  'You  don't  say  that,  sir,'  said 
Ramsey,  starting  back;  'the  time  was  only  out  last 
night,  sir.'  'I  do  say  it,  though,'  said  Fogg;  '  my  clerk's 
just  gone  to  file  it.  Hasn't  Mr.  Jackson  gone  to  file  that 
declaration  in  Bullman  and  Ramsey,  Mr.  Wicks?'  Of 
course  I  said  yes,  and  then  Fogg  coughed  again,  and 
looked  at  Ramsey.  'My  God!'  said  Ramsey;  'and  here 
have  I  nearly  driven  myself  mad,  scraping  this  money 
together,  and  all  to  no  purpose.'  'None  at  all,'  said 
I'ogg,  coolly;  *  so  you  had  better  go  back  and  scrape 
some  more  together,  and  bring  it  here  in  time. '  '  I  can't 
get  it,  by  God,'  said  Ramsey striking  the  desk  with  his 
fist.  '  Don't  bully  me,  sir,'  said  Fogg,  getting  into  a  pas- 
sion on  purpose.  '  I  am  not  bullying  you,  sir,'  said  Ram- 
sey. 'You  are,'  said  Fogg;  'get  out,  sir;  get  out  of  this 
office,  sir,  and  come  back,  sir,  when  you  know  how  to 
behave  yourself.'  Well,  Ramsey  tried  to  speak,  but 
Fogg  wouldn't  let  him,  so  he  put  the  money  in  his  pocket 
and  sneaked  out.  The  door  was  scarcely  shut,  when  old 
Fogg  turned  round  to  me,  with  a  sweet  smile  on  his  face, 
and  drew  the  declaration  out  of  his  coat  pocket.  '  Here, 
Wicks,' says  Fogg,  'take  a  cab  and  go  down  to  the 
Temple  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  file  that.  The  costs 
are  quite  safe,  for  he's  a  steady  man  with  a  large  family, 
at  a  salary  of  five-and-twenty  shillings  a  week,  and 
if  he  gives  us  a  warrant  of  attorney,  as  he  must  in  the 
end,  I  know  his  employers  will  see  it  paid;  so  we  may 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


275 


as  well  g%t  all  we  can  out  of  him,  Mr.  Wicks;  it's  a 
Christian  act  to  do  it,  Mr.  tVicks,  for,  with  his  large 
family  and  small  income,  he'll  be  all  the  better  for  a  good 
lesson  against  getting  into  debt — won't  he,  Mr.  Wicks, 
won't  he?'  and  he  smiled  so  good-naturedly  as  he  went 
away,  that  it  was  delightful  to  see  him.  He  is  a  capital 
nan  of  business,'^  said  Wicks,  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest 
erdmiration,    capital,  isn't  he?" 

The  other  three  cordially  subscribed  to  this  opinion, 
and  the  anecdote  afforded  the  most  unlimited  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  Nice  men  these  here,  sir,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller  to  his 
master;  ''worry  nice  notion  of  fun  they  has,  sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent,  and  coughed  to  attract 
Uie  attention  of  the  young  gentlemen  behind  the  parti- 
tion, who,  having  now  relaxed  their  minds  by  a  little 
V  onversation  among  themselves,  condescended  to  take 
ome  notice  of  the  stranger. 

**'I  wonder  whether  Fogg's  disengaged  now?"  said 
Jackson. 

"^I'll  see,"  said  Wicks,  dismounting  leisurely  from  his 
stool.    '-What  name  shall  I  tell  Mr.  Fogg?" 

''Pickwick,"  replied  the  illustrious  subject  of  these 
memoirs. 

Mr.  Jackson  departed  up  stairs  on  his  errand,  and  im- 
mediately returned  with  a  message  that  Mr.  Fogg  would 
see  Mr.  Pickwick  in  five  minutes;  and  having  delivered 
it,  returned  again  to  his  desk. 

''What  did  he  say  his  name  was?"  whispered  Wicks. 

"Pickwick,"  replied  Jackson;  "it's  the  defendant  in 
Bardell  and  Pickwick." 

A  sudden  scraping  of  feet,  mingled  with  the  sound  of 
suppressed  laughter,  was  heard  from  behind  the  parti- 
tion. 

"They're  a  twiggin'  of  you,  sir,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller. 

"Tv/iggingof  me,  Sam!"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  "what 
do  you  mean  by  twigging  me? " 

Mr.  Weller  replied  oy  pointing  with  his  thumb  over 
his  shoulder,  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  on  looking  up,  became 
sensible  of  the  pleasing  fact  that  all  the  four  clerks, 
with  countenances  expressive  of  the  utmost  amusement, 
and  with  their  heads  thrust  over  the  wooden  screen, 
were  minutely  inspecting  the  figure  and  general  appear- 
ance of  the  supposed  triner  v/ith  female  nearts,  ana  dis- 


276  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


turber  of  female  happiness.  On  his  looking  ujj,  the  row 
of  heads  suddenly  disappeared,  and  the  sound  of  pens 
travelling  at  a  furious  rate  over  paper  immediately  suc- 
ceeded. 

A  sudden  ring  at  the  bell  which  hung  in  the  office 
summoned  Mr.  Jackson  to  the  apartment  of  Fogg,  from 
whence  he  came  back  to  say  that  he  (Fogg)  was  ready 
to  see  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  he  would  step  up  stairs. 

Up  stairs  Mr.  Pickwick  did  step  accordingly,  leaving 
Sam  Weller  below.  The  room  door  of  the  one-pair  back 
bore,  inscribed  in  legible  characters,  the  imposing  words 

Mr.  Fogg, and,  having  tapped  thereat,  and  been  de- 
sired to  come  in,  Jackson  ushered  Mr.  Pickwick  into  the 
presence. 

''Is  Mr.  Dodson  in?"  inquired  Mr.  Fogg. 
''Just  come  in,  sir,"  replied  Jackson. 
"  Ask  him  to  step  here." 
"  Yes,  sir."    Exit  Jackson. 

"  Take  a  seat,  sir,"  said  Fogg;  "  there  is  the  paper,  sir; 
my  partner  will  be  here  directly,  and  we  can  converse 
about  this  matter,  sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  a  seat  and  the  paper,  but  instead 
of  reading  the  latter,  peeped  over  the  top  of  it,  and  took 
a  survey  of  the  man  of  business,  who  was  an  elderly 
pimply-faced,  vegetable-diet  sort  of  man,  in  a  black 
coat,  dark  mixture  trousers,  and  small  black  gaiters:  a 
kind  of  being  who  seemed  to  be  an  essential  part  of  the 
desk  at  which  he  was  writing,  and  to  have  as  much 
thought  or  sentiment. 

After  a  few  minutes'  silence,  Mr.  Dodson,  a  plump, 
portly,  stern-looking  man,  with  a  loud  voice,  appeared; 
and  the  conversation  commenced. 

"This  is  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Fogg. 

"Ah!  You  are  the  defendant,  sir,  in  Bardell  and  Pick- 
wick?" said  Dodson. 

"I  am,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Dodson,  "and  what  do  you  propose?" 

"Ah!"  said  Fogg,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  trou- 
sers' pockets,  and  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair, 
"what  do  you  propose,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

"  Hush,  Fogg,"  said  Dodson,  "let  me  hear  what  Mr. 
Pickwick  has  to  say." 

"I  came,  gentlemen,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick — gazing 
placidly  on  the  tvv^o  partners — "  I  came  here,  gentlemen, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


to  express  the  surprise  with  which  I  received  your  letter 
of  the  other  day,  and  to  inquire  what  grounds  of  action 
you  can  have  against  me." 

"  Grounds  of — "  Fogg  had  ejaculated  thus  much,  when 
he  was  stopped  by  Dodson. 

''Mr.  Fogg,"  said  Dodson,  ''I  am  going  to  speak." 

''I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Dodson,"  said  Fogg. 

''For  the  grounds  of  action,  sir,"  continued  Dodson, 
with  moral  elevation  in  his  air,  "you  will  consult  your 
own  conscience  and  your  own  feelings.  We,  sir,  we  are 
guided  entirely  by  .  the  statement  of  our  client.  That 
statement,  sir,  may  be  true,  or  it  may  be  false;  it  may 
be  credible,  or  it  may  be  incredible;  but,  if  it  be  true, 
and  if  it  be  credible,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  sir,  that 
our  grounds  of  action,  sir,  are  strong,  and  not  to  be 
shaken.  You  may  be  an  unfortunate  man,  sir,  or  you 
may  be  a  designing  one  ;  but  if  I  were  called  upon,  as  a 
juryman  upon  my  oath,  sir,  to  express  an  opinion  of 
your  conduct,  sir,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  I  should 
have  but  one  opinion  about  it."  Here  Dodson  drew  him- 
self up  With  an  air  of  offended  virtue,  and  looked  at 
Fogg,  who  thrust  his  hands  further  in  his  pockets,  and 
nodding  his  head  sagely,  said,  in  a  tone  of  the  fullest 
concurrence,  "  Most  certainly." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  considerable  pain 
depicted  in  his  countenance,  "  you  will  permit  me  to 
assure  you  that  I  am  a  most  unfortunate  man,  so  far  as 
this  case  is  concerned." 

"I  hope  you  are,  sir,"  replied  Dodson  ;  "I  trust  you 
may  be,  sir.  If  you  are  really  innocent  of  what  is  laid 
to  your  charge,  you  are  more  unfortunate  than  I  had 
believed  any  man  could  possibly  be.  What  do  you  say, 
Mr.  Fogg?" 

"  I  say  precisely  what  you  say,"  replied  Fogg,  with  a 
smile  of  incredulity. 

"  The  writ,  sir,  which  commences  the  action,"  con- 
tinued Dodson,  "was  issued  regularly.  Mr.  Fogg, 
where  is  the  prcBcipe  book  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Fogg,  handing  over  a  square  book 
with  a  parchment  cover. 

"  Here  is  the  entry,"  resumed  Dodson.  "  '  Middlesex 
Capias  Martha  Bardell,  widow,  v.  Samuel  Pickwick, 
Damages,  £1500.  Dodson  and  Fogg  for  the  plaintiff, 
Aug.  28,  1830.'    All  regular,  sir;  perfectly."  Dodson 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

coughed  and  looked  at  Fogg,  who  said  Perfectly/' 
also.    And  then  they  both  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick. 

I  am  to  understand,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''that 
it  really  is  your  intention  to  proceed  with  this  action  ? " 

"  Understand,  sir  ? — that  you  certainly  may,"  replied 
Dodson,  with  something  as  near  a  smile  as  his  import- 
ance would  allow. 

''And  that  the  damages  are  actually  laid  at  fifteen 
hundred  pounds  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  which  understanding  you  may  add  my  assurance 
that,  if  we  could  have  prevailed  upon  our^client,  they 
would  have  been  laid  at  treble  the  amount,  sir,"  replied 
Dodson. 

"  I  believe  Mrs.  Bardell  specially  said,  however,"  ob- 
served Fogg,  glancing  at  Dodson,  "that  she  would  not 
compromise  for  a  farthing  less." 

"Unquestionably,"  replied  Dodson,  sternly.  For  the 
action  was  only  just  begun,  and  it  wouldn't  have  done 
to  let  Mr.  Pickwick  compromise  it  then,  even  if  he  had 
been  so  disposed.  ^ 

"  As  you  offer  no  terms,  sir,"  said  Dodson,  displaying 
a  slip  of  parchment  in  his  right  hand,  and  affectionately 
pressing  a  paper  copy  of  it  on  Mr.  Pickwick  with  his 
left,  "  I  had  better  serve  you  with  a  copy  of  this  writ, 
sir.    Here  is  the  original,  sir." 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
rising  in  person  and  wrath  at  the  same  time,  "you  shall 
hear  from  my  solicitor,  gentlemen." 

"  We  shall  be  very  happy  to  do  so,"  said  Fogg,  rubbing 
his  hands. 

"Very,"  said  Dodson,  opening  the  door. 

"  And  before  I  go,  gentlemen,"  said  the  excited  Mr. 
Pickwick,  turning  round  on  the  landing,  "permit  me 
to  say  that  of  all  the  disgraceful  and  rascally  proceed- 
ings— " 

"Stay,  sir,  stay,"  interposed  D odson,  with  great  po- 
liteness.   "Mr.  Jackson!  Mr.  Wicks!" 

"  Sir,"  said  the  two  clerks,  appearing  at  the  bottom  of 
the  stairs. 

"I  merely  want  you  to  hear  what  this  gentleman 
says,"  replied  Dodson.  "  Pray  go  on,  sir — disgraceful 
and  rascally  proceedings,  I  think  you  said." 

"I  did,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thoroughly  roused.  "I 
said,  sir,  that  of  all  the  disgraceful  and  rascally  pro- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


Ceedings  that  ever  were  attempted,  this  is  the  most  so. 
I  repeat  it,  sir." 

''You  hear  that,  Mr.  Wicks  ?"  said  Dodson. 

''You  won't  forget  these  expressions,  Mr.  Jackson, 
said  Fogg. 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  call  us  swindlers,  sir,'' 
said  Dodson.  "Pray  do,  sir,  if  you  feel  disposed — now, 
pray  do,  sir." 

"I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  You  are  swindlers." 

"Very  good,"  said  Dodson.  "You  can  hear  down 
there,  I  hope,  Mr.  Wicks  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  said  Wicks. 

"You  had  better  come  up  a  step  or  two  higher,  if  you 
can't,"  added  Mr.  Fogg.  "  Go  on,  sir;  do  go  on.  You 
had  better  call  us  thieves,  sir;  or  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  assault  one  of  us.  Pray  do  it,  sir,  if  you  would; 
we  will  not  make  the  smallest  resistance.  Pray  do  it, 
sir." 

As  Fogg  put  himself  very  temptingly  vf  ithin  the  reach 
of  Mr.  Pickwick's  clenched  fist,  there  is  little  doubt  that 
that  gentleman  would  have  complied  with  his  earnest 
entreaty,  but  for  the  interposition  of  Sam,  who,  hearing 
the  dispute,  emerged  from  the  office,  mounted  the  stairs 
and  seized  his  master  by  the  arm. 

"You  just  come  avay,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "Battle- 
dore and  shuttlecock's  a  werry  good  game,  vhen  you 
a'n't  the  shuttlecock  a^nd  two  lawyers  the  battledores,  in 
wich  case  it  gets  too  excitin'  to  be  pleasant.  Come  avay, 
sir.  If  you  want  to  ease  your  mind  by  blowing  up  some- 
body, come  out  into  the  court  and  blow  up  me;  but  it's 
rayther  too  expensive  work  to  be  carried  on  here." 

And  without  the  slightest  ceremony  Mr.  Weller  hauled 
his  master  down  the  stairs  and  down  the  court,  and  hav- 
ing safely  deposited  him  in  Cornhill,  fell  behind,  pre- 
pared to  follow  whithersoever  he  should  lead. 

Mr.  Pickwick  walked  on  abstractedly,  crossed  opposite 
the  Mansion  House,  and  bent  his  steps  up  Cheapoide. 
Sam  began  to  wonder  where  they  were  going,  when  his 
master  turned  round  and  said: 

"  Sam,  I  will  go  immediately  to  Mr.  Perker's." 

"That's  just  exactly  the  werry  place  vere  you  ought 
to  have  gone  last  night,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"I  think  it  is,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  know  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 


^80  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^'Well,  well,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^^we  will 

fo  there  at  once;  but  first,  as  I  have  been  rather  ruffled, 
should  like  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water  warm,  Sam. 
"Where  can  I  have  it,  Sam  ?" 

Mr.  Weller's  knowledge  of  London  was  extensive  and 
peculiar.  He  replied,  without  the  slightest  considera- 
tion: 

^•Second  court  on  the  right-hand  side — last  house  but 
vun  on  the  same  side  the  vay — take  the  box  as  stands 
in  the  first  fire-place,  'cos  there  a'n't  no  leg  in  the  middle 
o'  the  table,  wich  all  the  others  has,  and  its  werry 
inconwenient." 

Mr.  Pickwick  observed  his  valet's  directions  implicitly, 
and  bidding  Sam  follow  him,  entered  the  tavern  he  had 
pointed  out,  where  the  hot  brandy  and  water  was 
speedily  placed  before  him;  while  Mr.  Weller,  seated  at 
a  respectful  distance,  though  at  the  same  table  with  his 
master,  was  accommodated  with  a  pint  of  porter. 

The  room  was  one  of  a  very  homely  description,  and 
was'  apparently  under  the  especial  patronage  of  stage 
coachmen;  for  several  gentlemen,  who  had  all  the  ap- 
pearance of  belonging  to  that  learned  profession,  were 
drinking  and  smoking  in  the  different  boxes.  Among 
the  number  was  one  stout,  red-faced,  elderly  man  in  par- 
ticular, sea^ted  in  an  opposite  box,  who  attracted  Mr. 
Pickwick's  attention.  The  stout  man  was  smoking  with 
great  vehemence,  but  between  every  half  dozen  puffs 
he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  looked  first  at  Mr. 
Weller  and  then  at  Mr.  Pickwick.  Then  he  would  bury 
in  a  quart-pot  as  much  of  his  countenance  as  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  quart-pot  admitted  of  its  receiving,  and  take 
another  look  at  Sam  and  Mr.  Pickwick.  Then  he  would 
take  another  half  dozen  puffs  with  an  air  of  profound 
meditation,  and  look  at  them  again.  At  last  the  stout 
man,  putting  up  his  legs  on  the  seat  and  leaning  his 
back  against  the  wall,  began  to  puff  at  his  pipe  without 
leaving  off  at  all,  and  to  stare  through  the  smoke  at  the 
new-comers,  as  if  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  see  the 
most  he  could  of  them. 

At  first  the  evolutions  of  the  stout  man  had  escaped 
Mr.  Weller's  observation,  but  by  degrees,  as  he  saw  Mr. 
Pickwick's  eyes  every  now  and  then  turning  towards 
him,  he  began  to  gaze  in  the  same  direction,  at  the  same 
time  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand;  as  if  he  partially 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


281 


recognized  the  object  before  him,  and  wished  to  make 
quite  sure  of  its  identity.  His  doubts  were  speedily  dis- 
pelled, however,  for  the  stout  man  having  blown  a  thick 
cloud  from  his  pipe,  a  hoarse  voice,  like  some  strange 
effort  of  ventriloquism,  emerged  from  beneath  the  ca- 
pacious shawls  which  muffled  his  throat  and  chest,  and 
slowly  uttered  these  sounds — Wy,  Sammy!" 

"  Who's  that,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Why,  I  wouldn't  ha'  believed  it,  sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller,  with  astonished  eyes.    ''It's  the  old  'un." 

"  Old  one?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  What  old  one?" 

"  My  father,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "How  are  you, 
my  ancient?"  With  which  beautiful  ebullition  of  filial 
affection,  Mr.  Weller  made  room  on  the  seat  beside  him 
for  the  stout  man,  who  advanced,  pipe  in  mouth  and  pot 
in  hand,  to  greet  him. 

"  Wy,  Sammy,"  said  the  father,  "  I  han't  seen  you  for 
two  year  and  better." 

"Nor  more  you  have,  old  codger,"  replied  the  son. 
' '  How's  mother-in-law  ? " 

"Wy,  I'll  tell  you  what,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
senior,  with  much  solemnity  in  his  manner,  "there 
never  was  a  nicer  woman  as  a  wider  than  that  'ere  sec- 
ond wentur  o'  mine — a  sweet  creetur  she  was,  Sammy  ; 
all  I  can  say  on  her  now  is,  that  as  she  was  such  an 
uncommon  pleasant  widder,  it's  a  great  pity  she 
ever  changed  her  con-dition.  She  don't  act  as  a  vife, 
Sammy. " 

'*  Don't  she,  though?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  junior. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  as  he  replied  with 
a  sigh,  "  I've  done  it  once  too  often,  Sammy  ;  I've  done 
it  once  too  often.  Take  example  by  your  father,  my 
boy,  and  be  worry  careful  o'  widders  all  your  life,  spec- 
ially if  they've  kept  a  public-house,  Sammy."  Having 
delivered  this  parental  advice  with  great  pathos,  Mr. 
Weller,  senior,  refilled  his  pipe  from  a  tin  box  he  carried 
in  his  pocket ;  and  lighting  his  fresh  pipe  from  the  ashes 
of  the  old  one,  commenced  smoking  at  a  great  rate. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  renewing  the  subject, 
and  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  considerable  pause, 
"  nothin' personal,  I  hope,  sir ;  I  hope  you  han't  got  a 
widder,  sir." 

"Not  I,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing;  and  while 
Mr.  Pickwick  laughed,  Sam  Weller  informed  his  parent 


282  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

in  a  whisper  of  the  relation  in  which  he  stood  towards 
that  gentleman. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir/'  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  taking 
off  his  hat,/'  I  hope  you've  no  fault  to  find  with  Sammy, 
sir." 

''None  whatever,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Werry  glad  to  hear  it,  sir/'  replied  the  old  man  ;  "  I 
took  a  good  deal  o'  pains  with  his  eddication,  sir ;  let 
him  run  in  the  streets  when  he  was  werry  young,  and 
shift  for  his-self .  It's  the  only  way  to  make  a  boy  sharp, 
sir." 

"  Rather  a  dangerous  process,  I  should  imagine/'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

"And  not  a  werry  sure  one,  neither,"  added  Mr.  Wel- 
ler;  "I  got  reglarly  done  the  other  day." 

"  No  !  "  said  the  father. 

"  I  did,"  said  the  son  ;  and  he  proceeded  to  relate  in  as 
few  words  as  possible  how  he  had  fallen  a  ready  dupe 
to  the  stratagQms  of  Job  Trotter. 

Mr.  Weller,  senior,  listened  to  the  tale  with  the  most 
profound  attention,  and,  at  its  termination,  said  : 

"  Worn't  one  o'  these  chaps  slim  and  tall,  with  long 
hair,  and  the  gift  o'  the  gab  werry  gallopin'  ?  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  quite  understand  the  last  item 
of  description,  but,  comprehending  the  first,  said  "Yes," 
at  a  venture. 

"T'other's  a  black-haired  chap  in  mulberry  livery, 
with  a  werry  large  head?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam,  with 
great  earnestness. 

"Then  I  know  where  they  are,  and  that's  all  about  it," 
said  Mr.  Weller;  "  they're  at  Ipswich,  safe  enough,  them 
two." 

"  No  ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Fact,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "and  I'll  tell  you  hoW^  I 
know  it.  I  work  an  Ipswich  coach  now  and  then  for  a 
friend  o'  mine.  I  worked  down  the  werry  day  arter  the 
night  as  you  caught  the  rheumatiz,  and  at  the  Black 
Boy  at  Chelmsford — the  werry  place  they'd  come  to — I 
took  'em  up,  right  through  to  Ipswich,  where  the  man 
servant — him  in  the  mulberries — told  me  they  was  agoin' 
to  put  up  for  a  long  time." 

•^I'll  follow  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "we  may  as 
well  see  Ipswich  as  any  other  place.    I'll  follow  him," 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


283 


'^You're  quite  certain  it  was  them,  governor?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller,  junior. 

''Quite,  Sammy,  quite,"  replied  his  father,  ''for  their 
appearance  is  werry  sing'ler;  besides  that  'ere,  I  won- 
dered to  see  the  gen'lm'n  so  f ormiliar  with  his  servant ; 
and,  more  than  that,  as  they  sat  in  the  front,  right  be- 
hind the  box,  I  heerd  'em  laughing,  and  saying  how 
they'd  done  old  Fireworks." 

"  Old  who?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Old  Fireworks,  sir,  by  which,  I've  no  doubt,  they 
meant  you,  sir." 

There  is  nothing  positively  vile  or  atrocious  in  the  ap- 
pellation of  "  Old  Fireworks,"  but  still  it  is  by  no  means 
a  respectful  or  flattering  designation.  The  recollection 
of  all  the  wrongs  he  had  sustained  at  Jingle's  hands, 
had  crowded  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  mind,  the  moment  Mr. 
Weller  began  to  speak;  it  wanted  but  a  feather  to  turn 
the  scale,  and  " Old  Fireworks"  did  it. 

"  I'll  follow  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  emphatic 
blow  on  the  table. 

' '  I  shall  work  down  to  Ipswich  the  day  arter  to-mor- 
row, sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller  the  elder,  "from  the  Bull  in 
Whitechapel;  and  if  you  really  mean  to  go,  you'd  better 
go  with  me." 

"So  we  had,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "very  true;  I  can 
write  to  Bury,  and  tell  them  to  meet  me  at  Ipswich. 
We  will  go  with  you.  But  don't  hurry  away,  Mr.  Wel- 
ler, won't  you  take  anything?" 

"  You're  v/erry  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  W.,  stopping 
short — "perhaps  a  small  glass  of  brandy  to  drink  your 
health,  and  success  to  Sammy,  sir,  wouldn't  be  amiss." 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "A  glass  of 
brandy  here!"  The  brandy  was  brought:  and  Mr.  Wel- 
ler, after  pulling  his  hair  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  nodding 
to  Sam,  jerked  it  down  his  capacious  throat  as  if  it  had 
been  a  small  thimble-full. 

"Well  done,  father,"  said  Sam,  "take  care,  old  fellow, 
or  you'll  have  a  touch  of  your  old  complaint,  the  gout." 

"  I've  found  a  sov'rin'  cure  for  that,  Sammy,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller,  setting  down  the  glass. 

"A  sovereign  cure  for  the  gout,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
hastily  producing  his  note-book,  "  what  is  it?" 

"The  gout,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "the  gout  is  a 
complaint  as  arises  from  too  much  ease  and  comfort.  If 


284  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ever  you're  attacked  with  the  gout,  sir,  jist  you  marry  a 
widder  as  has  got  a  good  loud  woice,  with  a  decent  no- 
tion of  usin'  it,  and  you'll  never  have  the  gout  agin.  It's 
a  capital  prescription,  sir.  I  takes  it  reg'lar,  and  I  can 
warrant  it  to  drive  away  any  illness  as  is  caused  by  too 
much  jollity."  Having  imparted  this  valuable  secj-et, 
Mr.  Weller  drained  his  glass  once  more,  produced  a 
laboured  wink,  sighed  deeply,  and  slowly  retired. 

Well,  what  do  you  think  of  what  your  father  says, 
Sam?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

''Think,  sir!"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  ''why,  I  think  he's 
the  wictim  o'  connubiality,  as  Blue  Beard's  domestic 
chaplain  said,  with  a  tear  of  pity,  ven  he  buried  him." 

There  was  no  replying  to  this  very  apposite  conclusion, 
and,  therefore,  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  settling  the  reckon- 
ing, resumed  his  walk  to  Gray's  Inn.  By  the  time  he 
reached  its  secluded  groves,  however,  eight  o'clock  had 
struck,  and  the  unbroken  stream  of  gentlemen  in  muddy 
high-lows,  soiled  white  hats,  and  rusty  apparel,  who 
were  pouring  towards  the  different  avenues  of  egress, 
warned  him  that  the  majority  of  the  oflSces  had  closed 
for  that  day. 

After  climbing  two  pairs  of  steep  and  dirty  stairs,  he 
found  his  anticipations  were  realized.  Mr.  Perker's 
"  outer  door  "-^was  closed;  and  the  dead  silence  which 
followed  Mr.  Weller's  repeated  kicks  thereat  announced 
that  the  officials  had  retired  from  business  for  the  night. 

"This  is  pleasant,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "I 
shouldn't  lose  an  hour  in  seeing  him;  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  get  one  wink  of  sleep  to-night,  I  know,  unless  I  have 
the  satisfaction  of  reflecting  that  I  have  confided  this 
matter  to  a  professional  man." 

"  Here's  an  old  'ooman  comin'  up  stairs,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller;  "  p'raps  she  knows  where  we  can  fine  some- 
body.   Hallo,  old  lady,  vere's  Mr.  Perker's  people?" 

"  Mr.  Perker's  people,"  said  a  thin,  miserable-looking 
old  woman,  stopping  to  recover  breath  after  the  ascent 
of  the  staircase,  "Mr.  Perker's  people's  gone,  and  I'm  a 
goin'  to  do  the  office  out." 

'  'Are  you  Mr.  Perker's  servant  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I  am  Mr.  Perker's  laundress,"  replied  the  old  woman. 

"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,"  half  aside  to  Sam,  "it's  a 
curious  circumstance,  Sam,  that  they  call  the  old  women 
in  these  inns  laundresses.    I  wonder  what  that's  for." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


285 


^Cos  they  has  a  mortal  awersion  to  washing  any  thin', 
I  suppose,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at 
the  old  woman,  whose  appearance,  as  well  as  the  condi- 
tion of  the  office,  which  she  had  by  this  time  opened, 
indicated  a  rooted  antipathy  to  the  application  of  soap 
and  water;  ''do  you  know  where  I  can  find  Mr.  Perker, 
my  good  woman?" 

''No,  I  don't,"  replied  the  old  woman,  gruffly;  "he's 
out  o'  town  now." 

"That's  unfortunate,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "where's 
his  clerk — do  you  know?" 

"Yes,  I  know  where  he  is,  but  he  wouldn't  thank  me 
for  telling  you,"  replied  the  laundress. 

"I  have  very  particular  business  with  him,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Won't  it  do  in  the  morning?"  said  the  woman. 

"  Not  so  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  if  it  was  anything  very 
particular,  I  was  to  say  where  he  was,  so  I  suppose  there's 
no  harm  in  telling.  If  you  just  go  to  the  Magpie  and 
Stump,  and  ask  at  the  bar  for  Mr.  Lowten,  they'll  show 
you  in  to  him,  and  he's  Mr.  Perker's  clerk." 

With  this  direction,  and  having  been  furthermore  in- 
formed that  the  hostelry  in  question  was  situated  in  a 
court,  happy  in  the  double  advantage  of  being  situated 
in  the  vicinity  of  Clare  Market,  and  closely  approximat- 
ing to  the  back  of  New  Inn,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  de- 
scended the  rickety  staircase  in  safety,  and  issued  forth 
in  quest  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump. 

This  favoured  tavern,  sacred  to  the  evening  orgies  of 
Mr.  Lowten  and  his  companions,  was  what  ordinary  peo- 
ple would  designate  a  public-house.  That  the  landlord 
was  a  man  of  a  money-making  turn  was  sufficiently  tes- 
tified by  the  fact  of  a  small  bulk-head  beneath  the  tap- 
room window,  in  size  and  shape  not  unlike  a  se'dan- 
chair,  being  underlet  to  a  mender  of  shoes:  and  that  he 
was  a  being  of  a  philanthropic  mind  was  evident  from 
the  protection  he  afforded  to  a  pie-man,  who  vended  his 
delicacies  without  fear  of  interruption  on  the  very  door- 
step. In  the  lower  windows,  which  were  decorated  with 
curtains  of  a  saffron  hue,  dangled  two  or  three  printed 
cards,  bearing  reference  to  Devonshire  cider  and  Dant- 
zic  spruce,  while  a  large  blackboard,  announcing  in 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


white  letters  to  an  enlightened  public  that  there  were 
500,000  barrels  of  double  stout  in  the  cellars  of  the  estab- 
lishment, left  the  mind  in  a  state  of  not  unpleasing 
doubt  and  uncertainty  as  to  the  precise  direction  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth  in  which  this  mighty  cavern 
might  be  supposed  to  extend.  When  we  add  that  the 
weather-beaten  sign-board  bore  the  half-obliterated  sem- 
blance of  a  magpie  intently  eyeing  a  crooked  streak  of 
brown  paint,  which  the  neighbours  had  been  taught  from 
infancy  to  consider  as  the  stump,"  we  have  said  all 
that  need  be  said  of  the  exterior  of  the  edifice. 

On  Mr.  Pickwick's  presenting  himself  at  the  bar,  an 
elderly  female  emerged  from  behind  a  screen  therein, 
and  presented  herself  before  him. 

Is  Mr.  Lowten  here,  ma'am?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Yes,  he  is,  sir,"  replied  the  landlady.     Here,  Char- 
ley, show  the  gentleman  in  to  Mr.  Lowten." 

The  gen'lm'n  can't  go  in,  just  now,"  said  a  sham- 
bling pot-boy,  with  a  red  head,  '"cos  Mr.  Lowten's  a 
singin'  a  comic  song,  and  he'll  put  him  out.  He'll  be 
done  d'rectly,  sir." 

The  red-headed  pot-boy  had  scarcely  finished  speak- 
ing, when  a  most  unanimous  hammering  of  tables,  and 
jingling  of  glasses,  announced  that  the  song  had  that 
minute  terminated;  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  desiring 
Sam  to  solace  himself  in  the  tap,  suffered  himself  to  be 
conducted  into  the  presence  of  Mr.  Lov/ten. 

At  the  announcement  of  gentleman  to  speak  to  you, 
sir,"  a  puffy-faced  young  man,  who  filled  the  chair  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  looked  with  some  surprise  in  the  direc- 
tion from  whence  the  voice  proceeded:  and  the  surprise 
seemed  to  be  by  no  means  diminished,  when  his  eyes 
rested  on  an  individual  whom  he  had  never  seen  before. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  I 
am  very  sorry  to  disturb  the  other  gentlemen,  too,  but  I 
come  on  very  particular  business;  and  if  you  will  suffer 
me  to  detain  you  at  this  end  of  the  room  for  five  min- 
utes, I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you. " 

The  puffy-faced  young  man  rose,  and  drawing  a 
chair  close  to  Mr.  Pickwick  in  an  obscure  corner  of 
the  room,  listened  attentively  to  his  tale  of  woe. 

''Ah,"  he  said,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  concluded, 
*'  Dodson  and  Fogg — sharp  practice  theirs— capital  men 
of  business.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  sir." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


287 


Mr.  Pickwick  admitted  the  sharp  practice  of  Dodson 
and  Fogg,  and  Lowten  resumed: 

^'Perker  ain't  in  town,  and  he  won't  be,  neither,  be- 
fore the  end  of  next  week ;  but  if  you  want  the  action 
defended,  and  will  leave  the  copy  with  me,  I  can  do  all 
that's  needful  till  he  comes  back." 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  came  here  for,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, handing  over  the  document.  If  anything  particu- 
lar occurs,  you  can  write  to  me  at  the  post-office,  Ipswich. " 

That's  all  right,"  replied  Mr.  Perker's  clerk;  and  then 
seeing  Mr.  Pickwick's  eye  wandering  curiously  towards 
the  table,  he  added,  "  Will  you  join  us  for  half  an  hour 
or  so#  We  are  capital  company  here  to-night.  There's 
Samkin  and  Green's  managing-clerk,  and  Smithers  and 
Price's  chancery,  and  Timkin  and  Thomas's  out  o'  door 
— sings  a  capital  song,  he  does — and  Jack  Bamber  and 
ever  so  many  more.  You're  come  out  of  the  country,  I 
suppose.    Would  you  like  to  join  us?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  resist  so  tempting  an  opportu- 
nity of  studying  human  nature.  He  suffered  himself  to 
be  led  to  the  table,  where,  after  having  been  introduced 
to  the  company  in  due  form,  he  was  accommodated  with 
a  seat  near  the  chairman,  and  called  for  a  glass  of  his 
favourite  beverage. 

A  profound  silence,  quite  contrary  to  Mr.  Pickwick's 
expectation,  succeeded. 

"  You  don't  find  this  sort  of  thing  disagreeable,  I  hope, 
sir?"  said  his  right  hand  neighbour,  a  gentleman  in  a 
checked  shirt,  and -Mosaic  studs,  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth. 

*'Not  in  the  least,  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''I  like  it 
very  much,  although  I  am  no  smoker  myself." 

''I should  be  very  sorry  to  say  I  wasn't,"  interposed 
another  gentleman  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 
'"It's  board  and  lodging  to  me,  is  smoke." 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  at  the  speaker,  and  thought  that 
if  it  were  washing  too,  it  would  be  all  the  better. 

Here  there  was  another  pause.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  a 
stranger,  and  his  coming  had  evidently  cast  a  damp  upon 
the  party. 

''Mr.  Grundy's  going  to  oblige  the  company  with  a 
song,"  said  the  chairman. 

''No  he  ain't,"  said  Mr.  Grundy. 
'*  Vv'hy  not?"  said  the  chairman. 


388  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''Because  he  can't,"  said  Mr.  Grundy. 

''You  had  better  say  he  won't/'  replied  the  chairman. 

"Well,  then,  he  won't,"  retorted  Mr.  Grundy. 

Mr.  Grundy's  positive  refusal  to  gratify  the  company 
occasioned  another  silence. 

"Won't  anybody  enliven  us?"  said  the  chairman,  de- 
spondingly. 

"Why  don't  you  enliven  us  yourself,  Mr.  Chairman?" 
said  a  young  man  with  a  whisker,  a  squint,  and  an  open 
shirt  collar  (dirty),  from  the  bottom  of  the  table. 

"Hear!  hear!"  said  the  smoking  gentleman  in  the 
Mosaic  jewellery. 

"Because  I  only  know  one  song,  and  I  have  ^ng  it 
already,  and  it's  a  fine  of  '  glasses  round'  to  sing  the 
same  song  twice  in  a  night,"  replied  the  chairman. 

This  was  an  unanswerable  reply,  and  silence  pre- 
vailed again. 

"  I  have  been  to-night,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
hoping  to  start  a  subject  which  all  the  company  could 
take  a  part  in  discussing,  "I  have  been  to-night  in  a 
place  which  you  all  know  very  well,  doubtless,  but ' 
which  I  have  not  been  in  before,  for  some  years,  and 
know  very  little  of;  I  mean  Gray's  Inn,  gentlemen. 
Curious  little  nooks  in  a  great  place,  like  London,  these 
old  inns  are." 

"  By  Jove,"  said  the  chairman,  whispering  across  the 
table  to  Mr,  Pickwick,  "you  have  hit  upon  something 
that  one  of  us,  at  least,  would  talk  upon  forever.  You'll 
draw  old  Jack  Bamber  out;  he  was  never  heard  to  talk 
about  anything  else  but  the  inns,  and  he  has  lived  alone 
in  them  till  he's  half  crazy." 

The  individual  to  whom  Lowten  alluded  was  a  little 
yellow,  high-shouldered  man,  whose  countenance,  from 
his  habit  of  stooping  forward  when  silent,  Mr.  Pickwick 
had  not  observed  before.  He  wondered,  though,  when 
the  old  man  raised  his  shrivelled  face,  and  bent  his  grey 
eyes  u^on  him,  with  a  keen,  inquiring  look,  that  such  re- 
markaole  features  could  have  escaped  his  attention  for 
a  moment.  There  was  a  fixed  grim  smile  perpetually 
on  his  countenance;  he  leant  his  chin  on  a  long  skinny 
hand,  with  nails  of  extraordinary  length;  and  as  he  in- 
clined his  head  to  one  side,  and  looked  keenly  out  from 
beneath  his  ragged  grey  eyebrows,  there  was  a  strange^ 
wild  shyness  in  his  leer,  quite  repulsive  to  behold. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


289 


This  was  the  figure  that  now  started  forward,  and 
burst  into  an  animated  torrent  of  words.  As  this  chap- 
ter has  been  a  long  one,  however,  and  as  the  old  man  » 
was  a  remarkable  personage,  it  will  be  more  respectful 
to  him,  and  more  convenient  to  us,  to  let  him  speak  for 
himself  in  a  fresh  one. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

IN  WHICH  THE  OLD  MAN  LAUNCHES  FORTH  INTO  HIS  FAVOUR- 
ITE THEME.     AND  RELATES  A  STORY  ABOUT  A  QUEER 
CLIENT. 

"  Aha!"  said  the  old  man,  a  brief  description  of  whose 
manner  and  appearance  concluded  the  last  chapter. 
"  Aha!  who  was  talking  about  the  Inns?" 

''I  was,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick — ''I  was  observ- 
ing what  singular  old  places  they  are." 

"  Your  said  the  old  man,  contemptuously.  "  What  do 
you  know  of  the  time  v^hen  young  men  shut  themselves 
up  in  those  lonely  rooms,  and  read  and  read,  hour  after 
hour,  and  night  after  night,  till  their  reason  wandered 
beneath  their  midnight  studies;  till  their  mental  powers 
were  exhausted;  till  morning's  light  brought  no  fresh- 
ness or  health  to  them;  and  they  sank  beneath  the  un- 
natural devotion  of  their  youthful  energies  to  their  dry 
old  books?  Coming  down  to  a  later  time,  and  a  very 
different  day,*wha.t  do  you  know  of  the  gradual  sinking 
beneath  consumption,  or  the  quick  wasting  of  fever — 
the.  grand  results  of  '  life '  and  dissipation — ^^which  men 
have  undergone  in  those  same  rooms?  How  many  vain 
pleaders  for  mercy,  do  you  think,  have  turned  away 
heartsick  froiri  the  lawyer's  office,  to  find  a  resting-place 
in  the  Thames,  or  a  refuge  in  the  gaol?  They  are  no  or- 
dinary houses,  those.  There  is  not  a  panel  in  the  old 
wainscotting  but  what,  if  it  were  endowed  with  the 
powers  of  speech  and  memory,  could  start  from  the  wall, 
and  tell  its  tale  of  horror — the  romance  of  life,  sir,  the 
romance  of  life!  Common-place  as  they  may  seem  now, 
I  tell  you  they  are  strange  old  places,  and  I  would 
rather  hear  many  a  legend  with  a  terrific  sounding 
name  than  the  true  history  of  one  old  set  of  chambers." 


290  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

There  was  something  so  odd  in  the  old  man's  sudden 
energy,  and  the  subject  which  had  called  it  forth,  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  prepared  with  no  observation  in  re- 
ply; and  the  old  nian  checking  his  impetuosity,  and  re- 
suming the  leer,  which  had  disappeared  during  his  pre- 
vious excitement,  said: 

Look  at  them  in  another  light:  their  most  common- 
place and  least  romantic.  What  fine  places  of  slow  tor- 
ture they  are!  Think  of  the  needy  man  who  has  spent 
his  all,  beggared  himself  and  pinched  his  friends,  to 
enter  the  profession,  which  will  never  yield  him  a  mor- 
sel of  bread.  The  waiting — the  hope — the  disappoint- 
ment— the  fear — the  misery — the  poverty — the  blight  on 
his  hopes  and  end  to  his  career — the  suicide,  perhaps,  or 
the  shabby,  slipshod  drunkard.  Am  I  not  right  about 
them?"  And  the  old  man  rubbed  his  hands,  and  leered 
as  if  in  delight  at  having  found  another  point  of  view 
in  which  to  place  his  favourite  subject. 

Mr.  Pickwick  eyed  the  old  man  with  great  curiosity, 
and  the  remainder  of  the  compa-ny  smiled,  and  looked 
on  in  silence. 

''Talk  of  your  German  universities,"  said  the  little 
old  man.  ''Pooh,  pooh!  there's  romance  enough  at 
home  without  going  half  a  mile  for  it;  only  people  never 
think  of  it." 

"I  never  thought  of  the  romance  of  this  particular 
subject  before,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing. 

"To  be  sure  you  didn't,"  said  the  little  old  man,  " of 
course  not.  As  a  friend  of  mine  used  t/o  say  to  me, 
'  What  is  there  in  chambers,  in  particular?'  'Queer  old 
places,'  said  I.  '  Not  at  all,'  said  he.  '  Lonely,'  sai^  I. 
'Not  a  bit  of  it,' said  he.  He  died  one  morning  of 
apoplexy,  as  he  was  going  to  open  his  outer  door.  Fell 
with  his  head  in  his  own  letter-box,  and  there  he  lay  for 
eighteen  months.  Everybody  thought  he'd  gone  out  of 
town." 

"  And  how  was  he  found  at  last?"  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  The  benchers  determined  to  have  his  door  broken 
open,  as  he  hadn't  paid  any  rent  for  two  years.  So  they 
did.  Forced  the  lock;  and  a  very  dusty  skeleton  in  a 
blue  coat,  black  knee-shorts,  and  silks,  fell  forward  in 
the  arms  of  the  porter  who  opened  the  door.  Queer, 
that.    Rather,  perhaps?"    The  little  old  man  put  his 


THJ]  PICKWICK  CLUB.  291 

head  more  on  one  side,  and  rubbed  his  hands  with  un- 
speakable glee. 

"  I  know  another  case/'  said  the  little  old  man,  when 
his  chuckles  had  in  some  degree  subsided — ^'it  occurred 
in  Clifford's  Inn.  Tenant  of  a  top  set — bad  character — 
shut  himself  up  in  his  bed-room  closet,  and  took  a  dose 
of  arsenic.  The  steward  thought  he  had  run  away; 
opened  the  door,  and  put  a  bill  up.  Another  man  came, 
took  the  chambers,  furnished  them,  and  v/ent  to  live 
there.  Somehow  or  other  he  couldn't  sleep — always 
restless  and  uncomfortable.  '  Odd,'  says  he.  '  I'll  make 
the  other  room  my  bed-chamber,  and  this  my  sitting- 
room.'  He  made  the  change,  and  slept  very  well  at 
night,  but  suddenly  found  that,  somehow,  he  couldn't 
read  in  the  evening  :  he  got  nervous  and  uncomfortable, 
and  used  to  be  always  snuffing  his  candles  and  staring 
about  him.  ^  I  can't  make  this  out,'  said  he,  when  he 
came  home  from  the  play  one  night,  and  was  drinking  a 
glass  of  cold  grog,  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  in  order 
that  he  mightn't  be  able  to  fancy  there  was  any  one  be- 
hind him — '  I  can't  make  it  out,'  said  he;  and  just  then 
his  eyes  rested  on  the  little  closet  that  had  been  always 
locked  up,  and  a  shudder  ran  through  his  whole  frame 
from  top  to  toe.  '  I  have  felt  this  strange  feeling  before,' 
said  he,  '  I  cannot  help  thinking  there's  something  wrong 
about  that  closet.'  He  made  a  strong  effort,  plucked  up 
his  courage,  shivered  the  lock  with  a  blow  or  two  of  the 
poker,  opened  the  door,  and  there,  sure  enough,  stand- 
ing bolt  upright  in  the  corner,  was  the  last  tenant,  v/ith 
a  little  bottle  clasped  firmly  in  his  hand,  and  his  face — 
well!  "  As  the  little  old  man  concluded,  he  looked  round 
on  the  attentive  faces  of  his  wondering  auditory  with  a 
smile  of  grim  delight. 

''What  strange  things  these  are  you  tell  us  of,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  minutely  scanning  the  old  man's 
countenance,  by  the  aid  of  his  glasses. 

''Strangel"  said  the  little  old  man.  ''Nonsense;  you 
think  them  strange,  because  you  know  nothing  about  it. 
They  are  funny,  but  not  uncommon." 

"Funny!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  involuntarily. 

"  Yes,  funnj,  are  they  not?  "  replied  the  little  old  man, 
with  a  diabolical  leer;  and  then,  without  pausing  for  an 
answer,  he  continued — 

"I  knew  another  man — let  me  see — it's  forty  years 


292 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ago  now — who  took  an  old,  damp,  rotten  set  of  cham- 
bers, in  one  of  the  most  ancient  inns,  that  had  been  shut 
up  and  empty  for  years  and  years  before.  There  were 
lots  of  old  women's  stories  about  the  place,  and  it  cer- 
tainly was  very  far  from  being,  a  cheerful  one;  but  he 
was  poor,  and  the  rooms  were  cheap,  and  that  would 
have^been  quite  a  sufficient  reason  for  him,  if  they  had 
been  ten  times  worse  than  they  really  were.  He  was 
obliged  to  take  some  mouldering  fixtures  that  were  on 
the  place,  and,  among  the  rest,  was  a  great  lumbering 
wooden  press  for  papers,  with  large  glass  doors,  and  a 
green  curtain  inside;  a  pretty  useless  thing  for  him,  for 
he  had  no  papers  to  put  in  it;  and,  as  to  his  clothes,  he 
carried  them  about  with  him,  and  that  wasn't  very  hard 
work,  either.  Well,  he  had  moved  in  all  his  furniture 
— it  wasn't  quite  a  truckf ull — and  had  sprinkled  it  about 
the  room,  so  as  to  make  the  four  chairs  look  as  much 
like  a  dozen  as  possible,  and  was  sitting  down  before 
the  fire  at  night,  drinking  the  first  glass  of  two  gallons 
of  whiskey  he  had  ordered  on  credit,  wondering  whether 
it  would  ever  be  paid  for,  and,  if  so,  in  how  many  jears' 
time,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  glass  doors  of  the 
wooden  press.  'Ah!'  says  he  —  'if  I  hadn't  been 
obliged  to  take  that  ugly  article  at  the  old  broker's  valu- 
ation, I  might  have  got  something  comfortable  for  the 
money.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  old  fellow,'  he  said, 
speaking  aloud  to  the  press,  having  nothing  else  to 
speak  to — '  if  it  wouldn't  cost  more  to  break  up  your  old 
carcase  than  it  would  ever  b'e  worth  afterwards,  I'd  have 
a  fire  out  of  you  in  less  than  no  time.'  He  had  hardly 
spoken  the  words,  when  a  sound  resembling  a  faint 
groan  appeared  to  issue  from  the  interior  of  the  case.  It 
startled  him  at  first,  but  thinking,  on  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion, that  it  must  be  some  young  fellow  in  the  next 
chambers,  who  had  been  dining  out,  he  put  his  feet  on 
the  fender,  and  raised  the  poker  to  stir  the  fire.  At  that 
moment,  the  sound  was  repeated;  and  one  of  the  glass 
doors  slowly  opening,  disclosed  a  pale  and  emaciated 
figure,  in  soiled  and  worn  apparel,  standing  erect  in  the 
press.  The  figure  was  tall  and  thin,  and  the  countenance 
expressive  of  care  and  anxiety,  but  there  was  something 
in  the  hue  of  the  skin,  and  gaunt  and  unearthly  appear- 
ance of  the  whole  form,  v\^hich  no  being  of  this  world 
was  ever  seen  to  wear.    'Who  are  you?'  said  the  new 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


293 


tenant,  turning  very  pale;  poising  the  poker  in  his  hand, 
however,  and  taking  a  very  decent  aim  at  the  counte- 
nance of  the  figure — '  Wlio  are  you?'  '  Don't  throw  that 
poker  at  me,'  replied  the  form — '  if  you  hurled  it  with 
ever  so  sure  an  aim,  it  would  pass  through  me,  without 
resistance,  and  expend  its  force  on  the  wood  behind.  I 
am  a  spirit.'  '  And,  pray,  what  do  you  want  here?'  fal- 
tered the  tenant.  '  In  this  room,'  replied  the  apparition, 
^my  worldly  ruin  was  worked,  and  I  and  my  children 
beggared.  In  this  press,  the  papers  in  a  long,  long  suit, 
which  accumulated  for  years,  were  deposited.  In  this 
room,  when  I  had  died  of  grief  and  long-deferred  hope, 
tv/o  wily  harpies  divided  the  wealth  for  which  I  had 
contested  during  a  wretched  existence,  and  of  which,  at 
last,  not  one  farthing  was  left  for  my  unhappy  descend- 
ants. I  terrified  them  from  the  spot,  and  since  that 
day  have  prowled  by  night — the  only  period  at  which  I 
can  revisit  the  earth — about  the  scenes  of  my  long- 
protracted  misery.  This  apartment  is  mine:  leave  it  to 
me.'  '  If  you  insist  upon  making  your  appearance  here,' 
said  the  tenant,  who  had  had  time  to  collect  his  presence 
of  mind  during  this  prosy  statement  of  the  ghost's — 'I 
shall  give  up  possession  with  the  greatest  pleasure;  but 
I  should  like  to  ask  you  one  question,  if  you  will  allow 
me.'  'Say  on,'  said  the  apparition,  sternly.  'Well,' 
said  the  tenant,  '  I  don't  apply  the  observation  person- 
ally to  you,  because  it  is  equally  applicable  to  most  of 
the  ghosts  I  ever  heard  of;  but  it  does  appear  to  me 
somewhat  inconsistent  that,  when  you  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  vi.siting  the  fairest  spots  of  earth — for  I  suppose 
space  is  nothing  to  you — you  should  always  return  ex- 
actly to  the  very  places  where  you  have  been  most 
miserable.'  '  Egad,  that's  very  true;  I  never  thought  of 
that  before,'  said  the  ghost.  '  You  see,  sir,'  pursued  the 
tenant,  '  this  is  a  very  uncomfortable  room.  From  the 
appearance  of  that  press,  I  sliould  be  disposed  to  say 
that  it  is  not  w^holly  free  from  bugs;  and  I  really  think 
you  might  find  much  more  comfortable  quarters:  to  say 
nothing  of  the  climate  of  London,  which  is  extremely 
disagreeable.'  '  You  are  very  right,  sir,'  said  the  ghost, 
politely,  '  it  never  struck  me  till  now;  I'll  try  change  of 
air  directly  '—and,  in  fact,  he  began  to  vanish  as  he 
spoke:  his  legs,  indeed,  liad  quite  disappeared.  'And 
it,  sir,  said  the  tencint,  calling  after  him,  '  if  you  would 


294 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


have  the  goodness  to  suggest  to  the  other  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  are  now  engaged  in  haunting  old  empty 
houses,  that  they  might  be  much  more  comfortable  else- 
where, you  will  confer  a  very  great  benefit  on  society.'  '  I 
will,'  replied  the  ghost;  ^  we  must  be  dull  fellows — very 
dull  fellows,  indeed;  I  can't  imagine  how  we  can  have 
been  so  stupid.'  With  these  words  the  spirit  disap- 
peared; and  what  is  rather  remarkable,"  added  the  old 
man,  with  a  shrewd  look  round  the  table,  ^^he  never 
came  back  again." 

''That  ain't  bad,  if  it's  true,"  said  the  man  in  the 
Mosaic  studs,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar. 

"If,''  exclaimed  the  old  m^an,  with  a  look  of  excessive 
contempt.  "  I  suppose,"  he 'added,  turning  to  Lowten, 
"  he'll  say  next  that  my  story  about  the  queer  client  we 
had,  when  I  was  in  an  attorney's  office,  is  not  true, 
either — I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"  I  shan't  venture  to  say  anything  at  all  about  it,  see- 
ing that  I  never  heard  the  story,"  observed  the  owner  of 
the  Mosaic  decorations. 

''I  wish  you  would  repeat  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Ah,  do,"  said  Lowten,  "  nol3ody  has  heard  it  but  me, 
and  I  have  nearly  forgotten  it." 

The  old  man  looked  round  the  table,  and  leered  more 
horribly  than  ever,  as  if  in  triumph,  at  the  attention 
which  was  depicted  in  every  face.  Then  rubbing  his 
chin  with  his  hand-,  and  looking  *up  to  the  ceiling  as  if 
to  recall  the  circumstances  to  his  memory,  he  began  as 
follows: 

THE  OLD  man's  TALE  ABOUT  THE  QUEER  CLIENT. 

''  It  matters  little,"  said  the  old  man,  where,  or  how, 
I  picked  up  this  brief  history.  If  I  were  to  relate  it  in 
the  order  in  which  it  reached  me,  I  should  commence  in 
the  middle,  and,  when  I  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion, 
go  back  for  a  beginning.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  say 
that  some  of  its  circumstances  passed  before  my  own 
eyes.  For  the  remainder  I  know  them  to  have  happened, 
and  there  are  some  persons  yet  living  who  will  remem- 
ber them  but  too  well. 

"In  the  Borough  High  Street,  near  Saint  George's 
Church,  and  on  the  same  side  of  the  way,  stands,  as 
most  people  know,  the  smallest  of  our  debtors'  prisons 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


295 


— the  Marslialsea.  Although  in  later  times  it  has  been 
a  very  different  place  from  the  sink  of  filth  and  dirt 
it  once  was,  even  its  improved  condition  holds  out  but 
little  temptation  to  the  extravagant  or  consolation  to 
the  improvident.  The  condemned  felon  has  as  good  a 
yard  for  air  and  exercise  in  Newgate,  as  the  insolvent 
debtor  in  the  Marshalsea  Prison.* 

"  It  may  be  my  fancy,  or  it  may  be  that  I  cannot  sep- 
arate the  place  from  the  old  recollections  associated 
with  it,  but  this  part  of  London  I  cannot  bear.  The 
street  is  broad,  the  shops  are  spacious,  the  noise  of  pass- 
ing vehicles,  the  footsteps  of  a  perpetual  stream  of  peo- 
ple— all  the  busy  sounds  of  traffic  resound  in  it  from 
morn  to  midnight,  but  the  streets  around  are  mean  and 
close;  poverty  and  debauchery  lie  festering  in  the 
crowded  alleys;  want  and  misfortune  are  pent  up  in  the 
narrow  prison;  an  air  of  gloom  and  dreariness  seems,  in 
my  eyes  at  least,  to  hang  about  the  scene,  and  to  impart 
to  it  a  squalid  and  sickly  hue. 

''Many  eyes,  that  have  long  since  been  closed  in  the 
grave,  have  looked  round  upon  that  scene  lightly  enough, 
when  entering  the  gate  of  the  old  Marshalsea  Prison  for 
the  first  time:  for  despair  seldom  comes  with  the  first 
shock  of  misfortune.  A  man  has  confidence  in  untried 
friends,  he  remembers  the  many  offers  of  service  so 
freely  made  by  his  boon  companions  when  he  wanted 
them  not;  he  has  hope — the  hope  of  happy  inexperience 
— and  however  he  may  bend  beneath  the  first  shock,  it 
springs  up  in  his  bosom,  and  flourishes  there  for  a  brief 
space,  until  it  droops  beneath  the  blight  of  disappoint- 
ment and  neglect.  How  soon  have  those  same  eyes, 
deeply  sunken  in  the  head,  glared  from  faces  wasted 
with  famine,  and  sallow  with  confinement,  in  days 
when  it  vv^as  no  figure  of  speech  to  say  that  debtors  rotted 
in  prison,  with  no  hope  of  release  and  no  prospect 
of  liberty  !  The  atrocity  in  its  full  extent  no  longer  ex- 
ists, but  there  is  enough  of  it  left  to  give  rise  to  occur- 
rences that  make  the  heart  bleed. 

"Twenty  years  ago,  that  pavement  was  worn  with 
the  footsteps  of  a  mother  and  child,  who,  day  by  day,  so 
surely  as  the  morning  came,  presented  themselves  at 
the  prison  gate;  often  after  a  night  of  restless  misery 

♦Better.     But  this  is  pust,  in  a,  better  age,  and  the  prison  exists  no  longer. 


296  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  anxious  thoughts,  were  they  there,  a  full  hour  too 
soion,  and  then  the  young  mother  turning  meekly  away, 
would  lead  the  child  to  the  old  bridge,  and  raising  him 
in  her  arms  to  show  him  the  glistening  water,  tinted 
with  the  light  of  the  morning's-  sun,  and  stirring  with 
all  the  bustling  preparations  for  business  and  pleasure 
that  the  river  presented  at  that  early  hour,  endeavour 
to  interest  his  thoughts  in  the  objects  before  him.  But 
she  would  quickly  set  him  down,  and  hiding  her  face  in 
her  shawl,  give  vent  to  the  tears  that  blinded  her;  for 
no  expression  of  interest  or  amusement  lighted  up  his 
thin  and  sickly  face.  His  recollections  were  few  enough, 
but  they  were  all  of  one  kind — all  connected  with  the 
poverty  and  mJsery  of  his  parents.  Hour  after  hour, 
had  he  sat  on  his  mother's  knee,  and  with  childish  sym- 
pathy watched  the  tears  that  stole  down  her  face,  and 
then  crept  quietly  away  in  some  dark  corner,  and 
sobbed  himself  to  sleep.-  The  hardreaJities  of  the  world, 
with  many  of  its  worst  privations — hunger  and  thirst, 
and  cold  and  want — ha.d  all  come  horae  to  him  from  the 
first  dawnings  of  reason:  and  though  the  form  of  child- 
hood was  there,  its  light  heart,  its  merry  laugh,  and 
sparkling  eyes,  were  wanting. 

"  The  father  and  mother  looked  on  upon  this  and  upon 
each  other,  with  thoughts  of  agony  they  dared  not 
breathe  in  words.  The  healthy,  strong-made  man,  who 
could  have  borne  almost  any  fatigue  of  active  exertion, 
was  wasting  beneath  the  close  confinement  and  un- 
healthy^ atmosphere  of  a  crowded  prison.  The  slight 
and  delicate  woman  was  sinking  beneath  the  combined 
effects  of  bodily  and  mental  illness.  The  child's  young 
heart  was  breaking. 

•'Winter  came,  and  with  it  weeks  of  cold  and  heavy 
rain.  The  poor  girl  had  removed  to  a  wretched  apart- 
ment close  to  the  spot  of  her  husband's  imprisonment; 
and  though  the, change  had  been  rendered  necessary  by 
their  increasing  poverty,  she  was  happier  now,  for  she 
was  nearer  him.  For  two  months,  she  and  her  little 
companion  watched  the  opening  of  the  gate  as  usual. 
One  day  she  failed  to  come,  for  the  first  time.  Another 
morning  arrived,  and  she  came  alone.  The  child  was 
dead. 

"  They  little  know,  who  coldly  talk  of  the  poor  man's 
bereavements,  as  a  happy  release  from  pain  to  the  de- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


297 


parted,  and  a  merciful  release  from  expense  to  the  sur- 
vivor— they  little  know,  I  say,  v^hat  the  agony  of  those 
bereavements  is.  A  silent  look  of  affection  and  regard 
when  all  other  eyes  are  turned  coldly  away — the  con- 
sciousness that  we  "possess  the  sympathy  and  ah  ection 
of  one  being  when  all  others  have  deserted  us — is  a  hold, 
a  stay,  a  comfort  in  the  deepest  affliction,  which  no 
wealth  could  purchase,  or  power  bestow.  The  child  had 
sat  at  its  parents'  feet  for  hours  together,  with  his  little 
liands  patiently  folded  in  each  other,  and  his  thin,  wan 
face  raised  towards  them.  They  had  seen  him  pine 
away,  from  day  to  day;  and  though  his  brief  existence 
had  been  a  joyless  one,  and  he  was  now  removed  to  that 
peace  and  rest  which,  child  as  he  was,  he  had  never 
known  in  this  world,  they  were  his  parents,  and  his  loss 
sunk  deep  into  their  souls. 

"  It  was  plain  to  those  who  looked  upon  the  mother's 
altered  face  that  death  must  soon  close  the  scene  of  her  ad- 
versity and  trial.  Her  husband's  fellow-prisoners  shrunk 
from  obtruding  on  his  grief  and  misery,  and  left  to  lum- 
self  alone  "fehe  small  room  he  had  previously  occupied  in 
common  with  two  companions.  She  shared  it  with  him; 
and  lingering  on  without  pain,  but  without  hope,  hor 
life  ebljed  slowly  away. 

She  had  fainted  one  evening  in  her  husband's  arms, 
and  he  had  borne  her  to  the  open  window,  to  revive 
her  with  the  air,  when  the  light  of  the  moon  falling 
upon  her  face,  shewed  him  a  change  upon  her  fea- 
tures, which  made  him  stagger  beneath  her  weight, 
like  a  helpless  infant. 

*''Set  me  down,  George,'  she  said,  faintly.  He  did 
so,  and  seating  himself  beside  her,  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

'  It  is  very  hard  to  leave  you,  George,'  she  said,  '  but 
it  is  God's  will,  and  you  must  bear  it  for  my  sake.  Oh  ! 
how  I  thank  Him  for  having  taken  our  boy.  He  is 
liappy,  and  in  heaven  now.  What  would  he  have  done 
iK^re,  without  his  mother  !' 

'''You  shall  not  die,  Mary,  you  shall  not  die,'  said 
the  husband,  starting  up.  He  paced  hurriedly  to  and 
fro,  striking  his  head  with  his  clenched  fist;  then  re- 
seating himself  beside  her,  and  sup])()rting  her  in  his 
arms,  added,  more  calinly,  '  Rouse  yourself,  my  dear 
girl — pray,  pray  do.    You  will  revive  yet.' 


298  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  ^  Never  again,  George;  never  again/  said  the  dying 
woman.  '  Let  them  lay  me  by  my  poor  boy  now,  but 
promise  me,  that  if  ever  you  leave  this  dreadful  place, 
and  should  grow  rich,  you  will  have  us  removed  to  some 
quiet  country  churchyard,  a  long,  long  way  off — very 
far  from  here,  where  we  can  rest  in  peace.  Dear 
George,  promise  me  you  will.' 

"  '1  do,  I  do,'  said  the  man,  throwing  himself  pas- 
sionately on  his  knees  before  her.  '  Speak  to  me,  Mary, 
another  word;  one  look — but  one  ! — ' 

''He  ceased  to  speak:  for  the  arm  that  clasped  his 
neck  grew  stiff  and  heavy.  A  deep  sigh  escaped  from 
the  wasted  form  before  him;  the  lips  moved,  and  a 
smile  played  upon  the  face,  but  the  lips  were  pallid, 
and  the  smile  faded  into  a  rigid  and  ghastly  stare.  He 
was  alone  in  the  world. 

"  That  night,  in  the  silence  and  desolation  of  his  mis- 
erable room,  the  wretched  man  knelt  down  by  the  dead 
body  of  his  wife,  and  called  on  God  to  witness  a  ter- 
rible oath  that,  from  that  hour,  he  devoted  himself  to 
revenge  her  death  and  that  of  his  child;  that  thence- 
forth, to  the  last  moment  of  his  life,  his  whole  energies 
should  be  directed  to  this  one  object;  that  his  revenge 
should  be  protracted  and  terrible;  that  his  hatred  should 
be  undying  and  unextinguishable;  and  should  hunt  its 
object  through  the  world. 

''The  deepest  despair,  and  passion  scarcely  human, 
had  made  such  fierce  ravages  on  his  face  and  form,  in 
that  one  night,  that  his  companions  in  misfortune 
shrunk  affrighted  from  him  as  he  passed  by.  His  eyes 
were  bloodshot  and  heavy,  his  face  a  deadly  white,  and 
his  body  bent  as  if  with  age.  He  had  bitten  his  under 
lip  nearly  through  in  the  violence  of  his  mental  suffer- 
ing, and  the  blood  which  had  flowed  from  the  vf ound 
had  trickled  down  his  chin,  and  stained  his  shirt  and 
neck-kerchief.  No  tear  or  sound  of  complaint  escaped 
him;  but  the  unsettled  look,  and  disordered  haste  with 
which  he  paced  up  and  down  the  yard,  denoted  the 
fever  which  was  burning  within. 

"  It  was  necessary  that  his  wife's  body  should  be  re- 
moved from  the  prison  without  delay.  He  received 
the  communication  with  perfect  calmness,  and  acqui- 
esced in  its  propriety.  Nearly  all  the  inmates  of  the 
prison  had  assembled  to  witness  its  removal;  they  fell 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


299 


back  on  either  side  when  the  widower  appeared;  he 
walked  hurriedly  forward,  and  stationed  himself,  alone, 
in  a  little  railed  area  close  to  the  lodge  gate,  from 
whence  the  crowd,  with  an  instinctive  feeling  of  deli- 
cacy, had  retired.  The  rude  coffin  was  borne  slowly  for- 
ward on  men's  shoulders.  A  dead  silence  pervaded  the 
throng,  broken  only  by  the  audible  lamentations  of  the 
wom.en,  and  the  shuffling  steps  of  the  bearers  on  the  stone 
pavement.  They  reached  the  spot  where  the  bereaved 
husband  stood:  and  stopped.  He  laid  his  hand  upon 
the  coffin,  and  mechanically  adjusting  the  pall  with 
which  it  was  covered,  motioned  them  onward.  The 
turnkeys  in  the  prison  lobby  took  off  their  hats  as  it 
passed  through,  and  in  another  moment  the  heavy  gate 
closed  behind  it.  He  looked  vacantly  upon  the  crowd, 
and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 

"  Although  for  many  weeks  after  this  he  was  watched 
night  and  day,  in  the  wildest  ravings  of  fever,  neither 
the  consciousness  of  his  loss,  nor  the  recollection  of 
the  vow  he  had  made,  ever  left  him  for  a  moment. 
Scenes  changed  before  his  eyes,  place  succeeded  place, 
and  event  followed  event,  in  all  the  hurry  of  delirium; 
but  they  were  all  connected  in  some  way  v>^ith  the 
great  object  of  his  mind.  He  was  sailing  over  a  bound- 
less expanse  of  sea,  with  a  blood-red  sky  above,  and  the 
angry  waters,  lashed  into  fury  beneath,  boiling  and 
eddying  up,  on  every  side.  There  was  another  vessel 
before  them,  toiling  and  labouring  in  the  howling  storm: 
l)er  canvas  fluttering  in  ribbons  from  the  mast,  and  her 
deck  thronged  with  figures  who  were  lashed  to  the  sides, 
over  which  huge  waves  every  instant  burst,  sweeping 
away  some  devoted  creatures  into  the  foaming  sea. 
Onward  they  bore,  amidst  the  roaring  mass  of  water, 
with  a  speed  and  force  which  nothing  could  resist;  and 
striking  the  stern  of  the  foremost  vessel,  crushed  her 
beneath  their  keel.  From  the  huge  whirlpool  whi(*h  the 
sinking  wreck  occasioned  arose  a  shriek  so  loud  and 
shrill — the  death-cry  of  a  hundred  drowning  creatures, 
blended  into  one  fierce  yell — that  it  rung  far  above  th(^ 
war-cry  of  the  elements,  and  echoed  and  re-echoed  till 
it  seemed  to  pierce  air,  sky,  and  ocean.  But  what  was 
that — that  old  grey-head  that  rose  above  the  water's 
surface,  and,  with  looks  of  agony  and  screams  for  aid, 
buffeted  with  the  waves!  One  look;  and  he  had  sprung 


300 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


from  the  vessel's  side,  and  with  vigorous  strokes  was 
swimming  towards  it.  He  reached  it:  he  was  close 
upon  it.  They  were  his  features.  The  old  man  saw 
him  coming,  and  vainly  strove  to  elude  his  grasp.  But 
he  clasped  him  tight,  and  dragged  him  beneath  the 
water.  Down,  down  with  him:  fifty  fathoms  down; 
his  struggles  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until  they  wholly 
ceased.  He  was  dead;  he  had  killed  him,  and  had  kept 
his  oath. 

"  He  was  traversing  the  scorching  sands  of  a  mighty 
desert,  barefoot  and  alone.  The  sand  choked  and  blinded 
him ;  its  fine,  thin  grains  entered  the  very  pores  of  his 
skin,  and  irritated  him  almost  to  madness.  Gigantic 
masses  of  the  same  material  carried  forward  by  the  wind, 
and  shone  through  by  the  burning  sun,  stalked  in  the 
distance  like  pillars  of  living  fire.  The  bones  of  me^i, 
who  had  perished  in  the  dreary  waste,  lay  scattered  at 
his  feet;  a  fearful  light  fell  on  everything  around;  so  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach  nothing  but  objects  of  dread  and 
horror  presented  themselves.  Vainly  striving  to  utter 
a  cry  of  terror,  with  his  tongue  cleaving  to  his  mouth, 
he  rushed  madly  forward.  Armed  with  supernatural 
strength,  he  waded  through  the  sand,  until,  exhausted 
with  fatigue  and  thirst,  he  fell  senseless  on  the  earth. 
What  fragrant  coolness  revived  him!  what  gushing 
sound  was  that  ?  Water  !  It  was  indeed  a  well;  and 
the  clear,  fresh  stream  was  running  at  his  feet.  He 
drank  deeply  of  it,  and  throwing  his  aching  limbs  upon 
the  bank,  sunk  into  a  delicious  trance.  The  sound  of 
approaching  footsteps  roused  him.  An  old  grey-headed 
man  tottered  forward  to  slake  his  burning  thirst.  It 
was  he  again  !  He  wound  his  arms  round  the  old  man's 
body,  and  held  him  back.  He  struggled,  and  shrieked 
for  water — for  but  one  drop  of  water  to  save  his  life  ! 
But  he  held  the  old  man  firmly,  and  watched  his  agonies 
with  grQed.y  eyes;  and  when  his  lifeless  head  fell  for- 
ward on  his  bosom,  he  rolled  the  corpse  from  him  with 
his  feet. 

''When  the  fever  left  him,  and  consciousness  re- 
turned, he  awoke  to  find  himself  rich  and  free  :  to  hear 
that  the  parent  who  would  have  let  him  die  in  gaol — 
would !  who  had  let  those  who  were  far  dearer  to  him 
than  his  own  existence  die  of  want  and  the  sickness  of 

heart  that  medicine  c^muot  cure— ha4  beeii  found  dead 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


301 


on  his  bed  of  down.  He  had  had  all  the  heart  to  leave 
his  son  a  beggar,  but  proud  even  of  his  health  and 
strength,  had  put  off  the  act  till  it  was  too  late,  and  now 
might  gnash  his  teeth  in  the  other  world,  at  the  thought 
of  the  wealth  his  remissness  had  left  him.  He  awoke 
to  this,  and  he  awoke  to  more.  To  recollect  the  purpose- 
for  which  he  lived,  and  to  remember  that  his  enemy 
was  his  wife's  own  father — the  man  who  had  cast  him 
into  prison,  and  who,  when  his  daughter  and  her  child 
sued  at  his  feet  for  mercy,  had  spurned  them  from  his 
door.  Oh,  how  he  cursed  the  weakness  that  prevented 
him  from  being  up  and  active  in  his  scheme  of  ven- 
geance ! 

He  caused  himself  to  be  carried  from  the  scene  of  his 
loss  and  misery,  and  conveyed  to  a  quiet  residence  on 
the  sea-coast — not  in  the  hope  of  recovering  his  peace  of 
mind  or  happiness,  for  both  were  fled  for  ever  ;  but  to 
restore  his  prostrate  energies,  and  meditate  on  his  dar- 
ling object.  And  here  some  evil  spirit  cast  in  his  way 
the  opportunity  for  his  first,  most  horrible  revenge. 

"  It  was  summer  time  ;  and  wrapped  in  his  gloomy 
thoughts  he  would  issue  from  his  solitary  lodgings  early 
in  the  evening,  and  wandering  along  a  narrow  path  be- 
neath the  cliffs,  to  a  wild  and  lonely  spot  that  had  struck 
his  fancy  in  his  ramblings,  seat  himself  on  some  fallen 
fragments  of  the  rock,  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands, 
remain  there  for  hours — sometimes  until  night  had  com- 
pletely closed  in,  and  the  long  shadows  of  the  frowning 
cliffs  above  his  head  cast  a  thick  black  darkness  on 
every  object  near  him. 

''  He  was  seated  here,  one  calm  evening,  in*  his  old 
position,  now  and  then  raising  his  head,  to  watch  the 
flight  of  a  sea-gull,  or  carry  his  eye  along  the  glorious 
crimson  path,  which,  commencing  in  the  middle  of  the 
ocean,  seemed  to  lead  to  its  very  verge  wh(n^e  the  sun 
was  setting,  when  the  profound  stillness  of  the  spot  was 
broken  by  a  loud  cry  for  lielp;  he  listened,  doubtful  of 
his  having  heard  aright,  when  the  cry  was  repeated  with 
even  greater  vehemence  than  before,  and,  starting  to 
his  feet,  he  hastened  in  the  direction  whence  it 
proceeded. 

''The  tale  told  itself  at  once:  some  scattered  garments 
lay  on  the  beach:  a  liuman  head  Was  just  visible  above 

the  waves  (it  ci  little  dist^nee  from  the'sliorej  apcl  ^ii  old 


302 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


man,  wringing  his  hands  in  agony,  was  running  to 
and  fro,  shrieking  for  assistance.  The  invalid, 
whose  strength  was  now  sufficiently  restored,  threw 
off  his  coat  and  rushed  towards  the  sea,  with  the  in- 
tention of  plunging  in  and  dragging  the  drowning  man 
ashore. 

"  'Hasten  here,  sir,  vn  God's  name;  help,  help,  sir,  for 
the  love  of  Heaven.  He  is  my  son,  sir;  my  only  son!' 
said  the  old  man,  frantically,  as  he  advanced  to  meet 
him.  'My  only  son,  sir,  and  he  is  dying  before  his 
father's  eyes!' 

''At  the  first  v^ord  the  old  man  uttered  the  stranger 
checked  himself  in  his  career,  and,  folding  his  arms, 
stood  perfectly  motionless. 

"'Great  God!'  exclaimed  the  old  man,  recoiling — 
'  Heyling!' 

"The  stranger  smiled,  and  was  silent. 

"  '  Heyling!'  said  the  old  man,  wildly;  '  my  boy,  Hey- 
ling, my  dear  boy,  look,  look!'  Gasping  for  breath,  the 
miserable  father  pointed  to  the  spot  where  the  young 
man  was  struggling  for  life. 

"  '  Hark!'  said  the  old  man; '  he  cries  once  more.  He 
is  alive  yet.    Heyling,  save  him,  save  him!' 

"  The  stranger  smiled  again,  and  remained  immovable 
as  a  statue. 

"  'I  have  wronged  you,'  shrieked  the  old  man,  falling 
on  his  knees  and  clasping  his  hands  together.  '  Be  re- 
venged; take  my  all,  my  life;  cast  me  into  the  water  at 
your  feet,  and,  if  human  nature  can  repress  a  struggle, 
I  will  die  without  stirring  hand  or  foot.  Do  it,  Heyling, 
do  it,  but  save  my  boy;  he  is  so  young,  Heyling;  so  young 
to  die!' 

"' Listen,'  said  the  stranger,  grasping  the  old  man 
firmly  by  the  wrist,  '  I  will  have  life  for  life,  a.nd  here  is 
one.  My  child  died,  before  his  father's  eyes,  a  far  more 
agonizing  and  painful  death  than  that  young  slanderer 
of  his  sister's  worth  is  meeting  while  I  speak.  You 
laughed — laughed  in  your  daughter's  face,  whexe  death 
had  already  set  his  hand — at  our  sufferings  then.  What 
think  you  of  them  now?    See  there,  see  there!' 

"As  the  stranger  spoke  he  pointed  to  the  sea.  A  faint 
cry  died  away  upon  its  surface;  the  last  powerful  strug- 
gle of  the  dying  man  agitated  the  rippling  waves  for  a 
few  ^econdS;       tk^  spot  wb^re  be  had  ^one  down  iuto 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


303 


his  early  grave  was  undistinguishable  from  the  sur- 
roundipg  vater. 

T^ree  .years  had  elapsed,  when  a  gentleman  alighted 
from  a  private  carriage  at  the  door  of  a  London  attor- 
ney, then  well-known  as  a  man  of  no  great  nicety  in  his 
professional  dealings,  and  requested  a  private  interview 
on  business  of  importance.  Although  evidently  not  past 
the  prime  of  life,  his  face  was  pale,  haggard,  and  de- 
jected; and  it  did  not  require  the  acute  perception  of  the 
man  of  business  to  discern,  at  a  glance,  that  disease  or 
<5uff ering  had  done  more  to  work  a  change  in  his  appear- 
ance than  the  mere  hand  of  time  could  have  accomplished 
m  twice  the  period  of  his  whole  life. 

"  '  I  wish  you  to  undertake  some  legal  business  for 
me,'  said  the  stranger. 

''The  attorney  bowed  obsequiously  and  glanced  at  a 
large  packet  which  the  gentleman  carried  in  his  hand. 
His  visitor  observed  the  look,  and  proceeded: 

"  '  It  is  no  common  business,'  said  he;  "  nor  have  these 
papers  reached  my  hands  without  long  trouble  and  great 
expense.' 

''The  attorney  cast  a  still  more  anxious  look  at  the 
packet;  and  his  visitor,  untying  the  string  that  bound  it, 
disclosed  a  quantity  of  promissory  notes,  w^ith  copies  of 
deeds,  and  other  documents. 

"  '  Upon  these  papers,'  said  the  client,  '  the  man  whose 
name  they  bear  has  raised,  as  you  will  see,  large  sums 
of  money  for  some  years  past.  There  was  a  tacit  un- 
derstanding between  him  and  the  men  into  whose  hands 
they  originally  went — and  from  whom  I  have  by  degrees 
purchased  the  whole,  for  treble  and  quadruple  their  nomi- 
nal value — that  these  loans  should  be  from  time  to 
time  renewed  until  a  given  period  had  elapsed.  Such 
an  understanding  is  nowhere  expressed.  He  has  sus- 
tained many  losses  of  late;  and  these  obligations 
accumulating  upon  him  at  once  would  crush  him  to  the 
earth.' 

"  'The  whole  amount  is  many  thousands  of  pounds,' 
said  the  attorney,  looking  over  the  papers. 
"  '  It  is,'  said  the  client. 

"  '  What  are  we  to  do  ?  '  inquired  the  man  of  business. 


304 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^  Do  !' replied  the  client,  with  sudden  vehemence — 
'  put  every  engine  of  the  law  in  force,  every  trick  that 
ingenuity  can  devise  and  rascality  execute;  fair  means 
and  foul;  the  open  oppression  of  the  law,  aided  by  all 
the  craft  of  its  most  ingenious  practitioners.  I  would 
have  him  die  a  harassing  and  lingering  death.  Ruin 
him,  seize  and  sell  his  lands  and  goods,  drive  him  from 
house  and  home,  and  drag  him  forth  a  beggar  in  his  old 
age,  to  die  in  a  common  gaol. ' 

"  '  But  the  costs,  my  dear  sir,  the  costs  of  all  this,' 
reasoned  the  attorney,  when  he  had  recovered  from  his 
momentary  surprise.  ^If  the  defendant  be  a  man  of 
straw,  who  is  to  pay  the  costs,  sir  ? ' 

"  'Name  a.ny  sum,'  said  the  stranger,  his  hand  trem- 
bling so  violently  with  excitement  that  he  could  hardly 
hold  the  pen  he  seized  as  he  spoke;  'any  sum,  and  it  is 
yours.  Don't  be  afraid  to  name  it,  man.  I  shall  not 
think  it  dear,  if  you  gain  my  object.' 

''The  attorney  named  a  large  sum,  at  hazard,  as  the 
advance  he  should  require  to  secure  himself  against  the 
possibility  of  loss;  but  more  with  a  view  of  ascertaining 
how  far  his  client  was  really  disposed  to  go,  than  with 
any  idea  that  he  would  comply  with  the  demand.  The 
stranger  wrote  a  cheque  upon  his  banker  for  the  whole 
amount,  and  left  him. 

"  The  draft  was  duly  honoured,  and  the  attorney,  find- 
ing that  his  strange  client  might  be  safely  relied  upon, 
commenced  his  work  in  earnest.  For  more  than  two 
years  afterwards,  Mr.  Heyling  would  sit  whole  days 
together,  in  the  office,  poring  over  the  papers  as  they 
accumulated,  and  reading  again  and  again,  his  eyes 
gleaming  with  joy,  the  letters  of  remonstrance,  the 
prayers  for  a  little  delay,  the  representations  of  the  cer- 
tain ruin  in  which  the  opposite  party  must  be  involved, 
which  poured  in,  as  suit  after  suit,  and  process  after  pro- 
cess, was  commenced.  To  all  applications  for  a  brief 
indulgence,  there  was  but  one  reply — the  money  must 
be  paid.  Land,  houses,  furniture,  each  in  its  turn,  was 
taken  under  some  one  of  the  numerous  executions  which 
were  issued:  and  the  old  man  himself  would  have  been 
immured  in  prison  had  he  not  escaped  the  vigilance  of 
the  officers  and  fled. 

' '  The  implacable  animosity  of  Heyling,  so  far  from 
being  satiated  by  the  success  of  his  persecution,  in- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


305 


creased  a  hundred-fold  with  the  ruin  he  inflicted.  On 
being  informed  of  the  old  man's  flight,  his  fury  was  un- 
bounded. He  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage,  tore  the  hair 
from  his  head,  and  assailed  with  horrid  imprecations 
the  men  who  had  been  entrusted  with  the  writ.  He  was 
only  restored  to  comparative  calmness  by  repeated  as- 
surances of  the  certainty  of  discovering  the  fugitive. 
Agents  were  sent  in  quest  of  him  in  ail  directions ;  every 
stratagem  that  could  be  invented  was  resorted  to,  for 
the  purpose  of  discovering  his  place  of  retreat;  but  it 
was  all  in  vain.  Half  a  year  had  passed  over  and  he 
was  still  undiscovered. 

At  length,  late  one  night,  Heyling,  of  whom  nothing 
had  been  seen  for  many  weeks  before,  appeared  at  his 
attorney's  private  residence,  and  sent  up  word  that  a 
gentleman  wished  to  see  him  instantly.  Before  the  at- 
torney, who  had  recognized  his  voice  from  above  stairs, 
could  order  the  servant  to  admit  him,  he  had  rushed  up 
the  staircase,  and  entered  the  dra^wing  room  pale  and 
breathless.  Having  closed  the  door,  to  prevent  being 
overheard;,  he  sunk  into  a  chair,  and  said,  in  a  low 
voice: 

'  Hush  !  I  have  found  him  at  last.' 
^^'No!  said  the  attorney.    Well  done,  my  dear  sir; 
well  done.' 

"  '  He  lies  concealed  in  a  wretched  lodging  in  Camden 
Town,  said  Heyling.  '  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  we  did 
lose  sight  of  him,  for  he  has  been  living  alone  there,  in 
the  most  abject  misery,  all  the  time,  and  he  is  poor — 
very  poor.' 

Very  good '  said  the  attorney.  'You  will  have  the 
caption  made  to-morrow,  of  course  ? ' 

'''Yes,'  replied  Heyling.  'Stay!  No!  The  next 
day.  You  are  surprised  at  my  wishing  to  postpone  it,' 
he  added,  with  a  ghastly  smile;  'but  I  had  forgotten.  The 
next  day  is  an  anniversary  in  his  life:  let  it  be  done 
then.' 

"'Very  good,'  said  the  attorney.  'Will  you  v/rite 
down  instructions  for  the  officer  ? ' 

"  'No;  let  him  meet  me  here  at  eight  in  the  evening, 
and  I  will  accompany  him  myself.' 

"They  met  on  the  appointed  night,  and,  hiring  a 
hackney-coach,  directed  the  driver  t(  ^  stoj)  at  that  corner 
of  the  old  Pancras-road  at  v/liicli  stands  the  parish  work- 


306 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


house.  By  the  time  they  alighted  there,  it  was  quite 
dark;  and,  proceeding  by  the  dead  wall  in  front  of  the 
Veterinary  Hospital,  they  entered  a  small  bye  street, 
which  is,  or  was  at  that  time,  called  Little  College  Street, 
and  which,  whatever  it  may  be  now,  was  in  those  days 
a  desolate  place  enough,  surrounded  by  little  else  than 
Holds  and  ditches. 

"  Having  drawn  the  travelling  cap  he  had  on  half  over 
his  face,  and  muffled  himself  in  his  cloak,  Heyling 
stopped  before  the  meanest  looking  house  in  the  street, 
and  knocked  gently  at  the  door.  It  was  at  once  opened 
by  a  woman,  who  dropped  a  curtesy  of  recognition,  and 
Heyling,  whispering  the  officer  to  remain  below,  crept 
gently  up  stairs,  and  opening  the  door  of  the  front  room, 
entered  at  once. 

"  The  object  of  his  search  and  his  unrelenting  anim^os- 
ity,  now  a  decrepit  old  man,  was  seated  at  a  bare  deal 
table,  on  which  stood  a  miserable  candle.  He  started, 
on  the  entrance  of  the  stranger,  and  rose  feebly  to  his 
feet. 

"  'What  now,  what  now?'  said  the  old  man.  ^  What 
fresh  misery  is  this?  What  do  you  want  here?' 

'A  word  with  yoii,^  replied  Heyling.  As  he  spoke, 
he  seated  himself  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and, 
throwing  off  his  cloak  and  cap,  disclosed  his  features. 

The  old  man  seemed  instantly  deprived  of  the  power 
of  speech.  He  fell  backwards  in  his  chair,  and,  clasping 
his  hands  together,  gazed  on  the  apparition  with  a 
mingled  look  of  abhorrence  and  fear. 

'''This  day  six  years,' said  Heyling,  '  I  claimed  the 
life  you  owed  me  for  my  child's.  Beside  the  lifeless 
form  of  your  daughter,  old  man,  I  swore  to  live  a  life  of 
revenge.  I  have  never  swerved  from  my  purpose  for  a 
moment's  space;  but  if  I  had,  one  thought  of  her  un- 
complaining, suffering  look,  as  she  drooped  away,  or  of 
the  starving  face  of  our  innocent  child,  would  have 
nerved  me  to  my  task.  My  first  act  of  requital  you  well 
remember:  this  is  my  last.' 

''  The  old  man  shivered,  and  his  hands  dropped  power- 
less by  his  side. 

'I  leave  England  to-morrow,'  said  Heyling,  after  a 
moment's  pause.  "To-night  I  consign  you  to  the  liv- 
ing death  to  which  you  devoted  her — a  hopeless  prison — ' 

''He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  old  man's  countenance,  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


307 


paused.  He  lifted  the  light  to  his  face,  set  it  gently 
down,  and  left  the  apartment. 

"  'Yon  had  better  see  to  the  old  man/  he  said  to  the 
woman,  as  he  opened  the  door,  and  motioned  the  officer 
to  follow^  him  into  the  street — 'I  think  he  is  ill.'  The 
woman  closed  the  door,  ran  hastily  up  stairs,  and  found 
him  lifeless. 

''Beneath  a  plain  grave-stone,  in  one  of  the  most 
peaceful  and  secluded  church-yards  in  Kent,  where  wild 
flowers  mingle  with  the  grass,  and  the  soft  landscape 
around  forms  the  fairest  spot  in  the  garden  of  England, 
lie  the  bones  of  the  young  mother  and  her  gentle  child. 
But  the  ashes  of  the  father  do  not  mingle  with  theirs; 
nor  from  that  night  forward  did  the  attorney  ever  gain 
the  remotest  clue  to  the  subsequent  history  of  his  queer 
client." 


As  the  old  man  concluded  his  tale,  he  advanced  to  a 
peg  in  one  corner,  and  taking  down  his  hat  and  coat, 
put  them  on  with  great  deliberation;  and,  without  say- 
ing another  word,  walked  slowly  away.  As  the  geiitle- 
man  with  the  Mosaic  studs  had  fallen  asleep,  and  the 
major  part  of  the  company  were  deeply  occupied  in  the 
humourous  process  of  dropping  melted  tallow-grease  into 
his  brandy  and  water,  Mr.  Pickwick  departed  unnoticed, 
and,  having  settled  his  own  score  and  that  of  Mr.  We  Her, 
issued  forth  in  company  with  that  gentleman,  frouTii  be- 
neath the  portal  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump. 


308 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MR.  PICKWICK  JOURNEYS  TO  IPSWICH,  AND  MEETS  WITH  A 
ROMANTIC  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  MIDDLE-AGED  LADY  IN 
YELLOW  CURL  PAPERS. 

^^That  'ere  your  governor's  luggage,  Sammy?"  in- 
quired Mr.  W eller,  senior,  of  his  a.fl ectionate  son,  as  he 
entered  the  yard  of  the  Bull  Inn,  V/hitechapel,  with  a 
travelling  bag  and  a  small  portmanteau. 

''You  might  ha'  made  a  worser  guess  than  that,  old 
feller,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  the  younger,  setting  down 
his  burden  in  the  yard,  and  sitting  himself  down  upon 
it  afterwards.  '"The  governor  hisself  11  be  down  here 
presently." 

"  He's  a  cabbin'  it,  I  suppose?"  said  the  father. 

"  Yes,  he's  a  havin'  two  mile  o'  danger  at  eightpence," 
responded  the  son.  ' '  How's  mother-in-law  this  mornin'  ?" 

"  Queer,  Sammy,  queer,"  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller, 
with  impressive  gravity.  "She's  been  gettin'  rayther 
in  the  Methodistical  order  lately,  Sammy;  and  she  is 
uncommon  pious,  to  be  sure.  She's  too  good  a  creetur 
for  me,  Sammy — I  feel  I  don't  deserve  her." 

"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Samuel,  "that's  worry  self-denyin'  o' 
you." 

"  Worry,"  replied  his  parent,  with  a  sigh.  "  She's  got 
hold  o'  some  inwention  for  grown-up  people  being  born 
again,  Sammy — the  new  birth,  I  thinks  they  call  it.  I 
should  worry  much  like  to  see  that  system  in  haction, 
Sammy.  I  should  worry  much  like  to  see  your  mother- 
in-law^born  agin.    Wouldn't  I  put  her  out  to  nurse!" 

"  What  do  you  think  them  women  does  t'other  day," 
continued  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  short  pause,  during  which 
he  had  significantly  struck  the  side  of  his  nose  with  his 
fore-finger  some  half-dozen  times.  "  What  do  you  think 
they  does,  t'other  day,  Sammy?" 

"  Don't  know,"  replied  Sam,  "what?" 

"Goes  and  gets  up  a  grand  tea  drinkin' for  a  feller 
they  calls  their  shepherd,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "I  was  a 
standing  starin'  in  at  the  pictur  shop  down  at  our  place, 

when  I  sees  a  little  biJ]  about  it;  '  Tickets  h^lf-a-crown, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


309 


All  applications  to  be  made  to  the  committee.  Secretary^ 
Mrs.  Weller.'  And  when  I  got  home,  there  was  the 
Qommittee  a  sittin'  in  our  back  parlour — fourteen  women; 
I  wish  you  could  ha'  heard  'em,  Sammy.  There  they 
was,  a  passin'  resolutions,  and  wotin'  supplies,  and  all 
sorts  o'  games.  Well,  what  with  your  mother-in-law  a 
worrying  me  to  go,  and  what  with  my  looking  forward 
to  seein'  some  queer  starts  if  I  did,  I  put  my  name  down 
for  a  ticket;  at  six  o'clock  on  the  Friday  evenin'  I  dresses 
myself  out,  worry  smart,  and  oft*  I  goes  vith  the  old 
'ooman,  and  up  we  walks  into  a  fust  floor  where  there  was 
tea  things  for  thirty,  and  a  whole  lot  'o  women  as  begins 
whispering  to  one  another,  and  lookin'  at  me,  as  if  they'd 
never  seen  a  rayther  stout  gen'lm'n  of  eight-and-fifty 
afore.  Bye  and  bye,  there  comes  a  great  bustle  down 
stairs,  and  a  lanky  chap  with  a  red  nose  and  white  neck- 
cloth rushes  up,  and  sings  out,  Here's  the  shepherd  a 
coming  to  wisit  his  faithful  flock;'  and  in  comes  a  fat 
chap,  in  black,  vith  a  great  white  face,  a  smilin'  avay 
like  clock-work.  Such  goin's  on,  Sammy!  '  The  kiss  of 
peace,'  says  the  shepherd;  and  then  he  kissed  the  women 
all  round,  and  ven  he'd  done,  the  man  vith  the  red  nose 
began.  I  was  just  a  thinkin'  whether  I  hadn't  better 
begin  too — 'specially  as  there  was  a  werry  nice  lady  a 
sittin'  next  m.e — ven  in  comes  the  tea,  and  your  mother- 
in-law,  as  had  been  makin'  the  kettle  bile,  down  stairs. 
At  it  they  went,  tooth  and  nail.  Such  a  precious  loud 
hymn,  Sammy,  while  the  tea  was  a  brewing;  such  a 
grace,  such  eatin'  and  drinkin'!  I  wish  you  would  ha' 
seen  the  shepherd  walking  into  the  ham  and  muffins.  I 
never  see  such  a  chap  to  eat  and  drink — never.  The  red- 
nosed  man  w^arn't  by  no  means  the  sort  of  person  you'd 
like  to  grub  by  contract,  but  he  was  nothin'  to  the  shep- 
herd. Well;  arter  the  tea  was  over,  they  sang  another 
hymn,  and  then  the  shepherd  began  to  preach;  and 
werry  well  he  did  it,  considerin'  how  heavy  them  muf- 
fins must  have  lied  on  his  chest.  Presently  he  pulls  up, 
3>11  of  a  sudden,  and  hollers  out,  'Where  is  the  sinner; 
where  is  the  mis'rable  sinner?'  upon  which,  all  the 
women  looked  at  me,  and  began  to  groan  as  if  they  was 
dying.  I  thought  it  was  ratlier  sing'ler,  but  howsoever, 
I  says  notliing.  Presently  he  ])ulls  up  again,  and  look- 
ing werry  hard  at  me,  ?>ays.  'W  jK^re  is  the  sinner;  vvliere 

IS  \l)^mWnxh\^  mmv''^  an(}  all  tiunv^onit^n  groo^n^^ again, 


310 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ten  times  louder  than  afore.  I  got  rather  wild  at  this, 
so  I  takes  a  step  or  two  f or'ard  and  says,  '  My  friend  ' 
says  I,  ^did  you  apply  that  'ere  obserwation  to  mer 
'Stead  of  begging  my  pardon  as  any  gen'lm'n  would  ha' 
done,  he  got  more  abusive  than  ever;  called  me  a  wessel, 
Sammy — a  wessel  of  wrath — and  all  sorts  o'  names.  So 
my  blood  being  reg'larly  up,  I  first  gave  him  two  or 
three  for  himself,  and  then  two  or  three  more  to  hand 
over  to  the  man  with  the  red  nose,  and  walked  off.  I 
wish  you  could  ha'  heard  how  the  women  screamed, 
Sammy,  ven  they  picked  up  the  shepherd  from  under 
the  table.    Hallo!  here's  the  governor,  the  size  of  life!" 

As  Mr.  Weller  spoke,  Mr.  Pickwick  dismounted  from 
a  cab,  and  entered  the  yard. 

''Fine  mornin',  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior. 

"Beautiful  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Beautiful  indeed,"  echoed  a  red-haired  man  with  an 
inquisitive  nose  and  blue  spectacles,  who  had  unpacked 
himself  from  the  cab  at  the  same  moment  as  Mr.  Pick- 
wick.   "Going  to  Ipswich,  sir?" 

"I  am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Extraordinary  coincidence.    So  am  I." 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed. 

"  Going  outside?"  said  the  red-haired  man. 
Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  again. 

"Bless  my  soul,  how  remarkable— I  am  going  outside, 
too,"  said  the  red-haired  man:  "  v/e  are  positively  going 
together."  And  the  red-haired  man,  who  was  an  im- 
portant-looking, sharp-nosed,  mysterious-spoken  per- 
sonage, with  a  bird-like  habit  of  giving  his  head  a  jerk 
every  time  he  said  anything,  smiled  as  if  he  had  made 
one  of  the  strangest  discoveries  that  ever  fell  to  the  lot 
of  human  wisdom. 

"I  am  happy  in  the  prospect  of  your  company,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  new-comer,  "  it's  a  good  thing  for  both 
of  us,  isn't  it?  Company,  you  see — company  is — is — it's 
a  very  different  thing  from  solitude — a'n't  it?" 

"  There's  no  deny  in'  that  'ere,"  said  Mr.  V7eller,  join- 
ing in  the  conversation,  with  an  affable  smile.  "That's 
what  I  call  a  self-evident  proposition,  as  the  dog's-meat 
man  said,  when  the  house-maid  told  him  he  warn't  a 
gentleman." 

Ah/'  said  the  red-haired  mau;  &ur  vexing  Mr.  Weller 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


311 


from  head  to  foot  with  a  supercilious  look.  Friend  of 
yours,  sir?" 

''Not  exactly  a  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  low 
tone.  "  The  fact  is,  he  is  my  servant,  but  I  allow  him 
to  take  a  good  many  liberties;  for,  between  ourselves,  I 
flatter  myself  he  is  an  original,  and  I  am  rather  proud 
of  him." 

''Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  ''that,  you  see,  is  a 
matter  of  taste.  I  am  not  fond  of  anything  original; 
I  don't  like  it;  don't  see  the  necessity  for  it.  What's 
your  name,  sir?" 

"Here's  my  card,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  much 
amused  by  the  abruptness  of  the  question,  and  the  singu- 
lar manner  of  the  stranger. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  placing  the  card  in  his 
pocket-book,  "Pickwick;  very  good.  I  like  to  know  a 
man's  name,  it  saves  so  much  trouble.  That's  my  card, 
sir.  Magnus,  you  will  perceive,  sir — Magnus  is  my 
name.    It's  rather  a  good  name,  I  think,  sir?" 

"A  very  good  name,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
wholly  unable  to  suppress  a  smile. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  resumed  Mr.  Magnus.  "  There's 
a.  good  name  before  it,  too,  you  will  observe.  Permit 
me,  sir — if  you  hold  the  card  a  little  slanting,  this  way, 
you  catch  the  light  upon  the  up-stroke.  There — Peter 
Magnus — sounds  well,  I  think,  sir." 

"  Very,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Curious  circumstance  about  those  initials,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Magnus.  ' '  You  will  observe — P.  M.  — post  meridian. 
In  hasty  notes  to  intimate  acquaintances,  I  sometimes 
sign  myself  'Afternoon.'  It  amuses  my  friends  very 
much,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  It  is  calculated  to  afford  them  the  highest  gratifica- 
tion, I  should  conceive,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rather  envy- 
ing the  ease  with  which  Mr.  Magnus's  friends  were  en- 
tertained. 

"  Now,  gen'lm'n,"  said  the  hostler,  "  coach  is  ready,  if 
you  please." 

"Is  all  my  luggage  in?"  inquired  Mr.  Magnus. 

"All  right,  sir." 

"  Is  the  red  bag  in?" 

"All  right,  sir." 

"And  the  striped  bag?" 

"Fore  boot,  sir." 


312  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


And  the  brown-paper  parcel?" 
''Under  the  seat,  sir." 
''And  the  leather  hat-box?" 
"They're  all  in,  sir." 

"Now,  will  you  get  up?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Excuse  me,"  replied  Magnus,  standing  on  the  wheel. 
"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  cannot  consent  to  get  up, 
in  this  state  of  uncertainty.  I  am  quite  satisfied,  from 
that  man's  manner,  that  that  leather  hat-box  is  not  in." 

The  solemn  protestations  of  the  hostler  being  wholly 
unavailing,  the  leather  hat-box  was  obliged  to  be  raked 
up  from  the  lowest  depth  of  the  boot,  to  satisfy  him*  that 
it  had  been  safely  packed;  and  after  he  had  been  as- 
sured on  this  head,  he  felt  a  solemn  presentment,  first, 
that  the  red  bag  was  mislaid,  and  next  that  the 
striped  bag  had  been  stolen,  and  then  that  the  brown- 
paper  parcel  had  "come  untied."  At  length,  when  he 
had  received  ocular  demonstration  of  the  groundless 
nature  of  each  and  every  of  these  suspicions,  he  con- 
sented to  climb  up  to  the  roof  of  the  coach,  observing 
that  now  he  had  taken  everything  off  his  mind,  he  felt 
quite  comfortable  and  happy. 

"You're  given  to  nervousness,  an't  you,  sir?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller,  senior,  eyeing  the  stranger  askance, 
as  he  mounted  to  his  place. 

"Yes;  I  always  am  rather,  about  these  Jittle  matters," 
said  the  stranger,  "  but  I  am  all  right  now — quite  right." 

"  Well,  that's  a  blessin',"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Sammy, 
help  your  master  up  to  the  box;  t'other  leg,  sir,  that's  it; 
give  us  your  hand,  sir.  Up  with  you.  You  was  a  lighter 
weight  when  you  was  a  boy,  sir." 

"True  enough  that,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  breathless 
Mr.  Pickwick,  good-humouredly,  as  he  took  his  seat  on 
the  box  beside  him. 

"  Jump  up  in  front,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Now, 
Villam,  run  'em  out.  Take  care  o'  the  archvay,  gen'l- 
m'n.  'Heads,' as  the  pieman  says.  That'll  do,  Villam. 
Let  'em  alone."  And  away  went  the  coach  up  White- 
chapel,  to  the  admiration  of  the  whole  population  of  that 
pretty  densely-populated  quarter. 

"Not  a  werry  nice  neighbourhood  this,  sir,"  said 
Sam,  with  the  touch  of  the  hat  which  always  preceded 
his  entering  into  conversation  with  his  master. 

"It  is  not  indeed,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  sur- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


313 


veying  the  crowded  and  filthy  street  through  which 
they  were  passing. 

''It's  a  werry  remarkable  circumstance,  sir/'  said 
Sam,  ''that  poverty  and  oysters  always  seems  to  go  to- 
gether." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"What  I  mean,  sir,"  said  Sam,  "is,  that  the  poorer  a 
place  is,  the  greater  call  there  seems  to  be  for  oysters. 
Look  here,  sir;  here's  a  oyster  stail  to  every  half-dozen 
houses — the  streets  lined  vith  'em.  Blessed  if  I  don't 
think  that  ven  a  man's  very  poor,  he  rushes  out  of 
his  lodgings,  and  eats  oysters  in  reg'lar  desperation." 

"To  be  sure  he  does,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  "and 
it's  just  the  same  vith  pickled  salmon!" 

"  Those  are  two  very  remarkable  facts,  v/hich  never 
occurred  to  me  before,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  The  very 
first  place  we  stop  at  I'll  make  a  note  of  them." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  turnpike  at  Mile 
End;  a  profound  silence  prevailed  until  they  had  got 
two  or  three  miles  further  on,  when  Mr.  Weller,  senior, 
turning  suddenly  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said — 

'*  Werry  queer  life  is  a  pike-keeper's,  sir." 

"  A  what?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  pike-keeper." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  pike-keeper?"  inquired  Mr. 
Peter  Magnus. 

"  The  old  'un  means  a  turnpike  keeper,  gen'lm'n,"  ob- 
served Mr.  Weller,  in  explanation. 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  see.  Yes;  very  curious 
life.    Very  uncomfortable." 

"  They're  all  on  'em,  men  as  has  met  vith  some  disap- 
pointment in  life,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior. 

"Ay,  ay?"  said  Mr.  PickAvick. 

"Yes.  Consequence  of  vich  they  retires  from  the 
world,  and  shuts  themselves  up  in  pikes;  partly  with 
the  view  of  being  solitary,  and  partly  to  rewenge  them- 
selves on  mankind  by  takin'  tolls." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  never  knew  that 
before." 

"Fact,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  "if  they  was  gen'lm'n 
you'd  call  'em  misanthropes,  but  as  it  is  they  only  takes 
to  pike-kf;e])in'." 

With  sucli  conversation,  possessing  the  inestimable 
charm  of  blending  amusement  with  instruction,  did  Mr. 


314 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Weller  boguile  the  tediousness  of  the  journey,  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  day.  Topics  of  conversation 
were  never  wanting,  for  even  when  any  pause  occurred 
in  Mr.  Weller's  loquacity,  it  was  abundantly  supplied  by 
the  desire  evinced  by  Mr.  Magnus  to  make  himself  ac- 
quainted with  the  whole  of  the  personal  history  of  his 
fellow-travellers,  and  his  loudly  expressed  anxiety,  at 
every  stage,  respecting  the  safety  and  well-being  of  the 
two  bags,  the  leather  hat-box,  and  the  brown-paper 
parcel. 

In  the  main  street  of  Ipswich,  on  the  left-hand  side  of 
the  way,  a  short  distance  after  you  have  passed  through 
the  open  space  fronting  the  Town  Hall,  stands  an  inn 
known  far  and  wide  by  the  appellation  of  ''The  Great 
White  Horse,"  rendered  the  more  conspicuous  by  a  stone 
statue  of  some  rampacious  animal  with  flowing  mane 
and  tail,  distinctly  resembling  an  insane  cart-horse, 
which  is  elevated  above  the  principal  door.  The  Great 
White  Horse  is  famous  in  the  neighbourhood,  in  the  same 
'  degree  as  a  prize  ox,  or  county  paper-chronicled  turnip, 
or  unwieldy  pig — for  its  enormous  size.  Never  were 
such  labyrinths  of  uncarpeted  passages,  such  clusters  of 
mouldy,  badly-lighted  rooms,  such  huge  numbers  of 
small  dens  for  eating  or  sleeping  in,  beneath  any  one 
roof,  as  are  collected  together  between  the  four  walls  of 
the  Great  White  Horse  at  Ipswich. 

It  was  at  the  door  of  this  overgrown  tavern  that  the 
London  coach  stopped,  at  the  same  hour  every  evening; 
and  it  was  from  this  same  London  coach  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, Sam  Weller,  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  dismounted, 
on  the  particular  evening  to  which  this  chapter  of  our 
history  bears  reference. 

''Do  you  stop  here,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Peter  Magnus, 
when  the  striped  bag,  and  the  red  bag,  and  the  brov/n- 
paper  parcel,  and  the  leather  hat-box,  had  all  been  de- 
posited in  the  passage.    "  Do  you  stop  here,  sir? " 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "I  never  knew  any- 
thing like  these  extraordinary  coincidences.  Why,  I 
stop  here,  too.    I  hope  we  dine  together?" 

"With  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "I  am  not 
quite  certain  whether  I  have  any  friends  here  or  not, 
though.  Is  there  any  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Tup- 
man  here,  waiter?" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


315 


A  corpulent  man,  with  a  fortnight's  napkin  under  his 
arm,  and  coeval  stockings  on  his  legs,  slowly  desisted 
from  his  occupation  of  staring  down  the  street,  on  tins 
question  being  put  to  him  by  Mr.  Pickwick;  and,  after 
minutely  inspecting  that  gentleman's  appearance,  from 
the  crown  of  his  hat  to  the  lowest  button  of  his  gaiters, 
reDlied,  emphatically: 

^^No." 

"  Nor  any  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Snodgrass?  "  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick. 
^'No." 

'-Nor  Mr.  Winkler 
^^No." 

My  friends  have  not  arrived  to-day,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick.  ''We  will  dine  alone,  then.  Shew  us  a 
private  room,  waiter." 

On  this  request  being  preferred,  the  corpulent  man 
condescended  to  order  the  boots  to  bring  in  the  gentle- 
men's luggage;  and  preceding  them  down  a  long,  dark 
passage,  ushered  them  into  a  large,  badly-furnished  ap- 
partment,  with  a  dirty  grate,  in  which  a  small  fire  was 
making  a  wretched  attempt  to  be  cheerful,  but  was  fast 
sinking  beneath  the  dispiriting  influence  of  the  place. 
Alter  the  lapse  of  an  hour,  a  bit  of  fish  and  a  steak  were 
served  up  to  the  travellers,  and  when  the  dinner  was 
cleared  away,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  drew 
thcAr  chairs  up  to  the  fire,  and  having  ordered  a  bottle 
of  the  worst  possible  port  wine,  at  the  highest  possible 
price,  for  the  good  of  the  house,  drank  brandy  and  water 
for  their  own. 

Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  naturally  of  a  very  communi- 
cative disposition,  and  the  brandy  and  water  operated 
with  wonderful  effect  in  warming  into  life  the  deepest 
hidden  secrets  of  his  bosom.  After  sundry  accounts  of 
himself,  his  family,  his  connexions,  his  friends,  his  jokes, 
his  business,  and  his  brothers  (most  talk^rtive  men  liave 
a  great  fiopJ  to  say  about  tlieir  brothers),  Mr.  Peter  Mag- 
nus took  a  blue  view  of  Mr.  Pickwick  through  his  col- 
oured spectacles  for  several  minutes,  and  then  said,  with 
an  air  of  modesty: 

''  And  what  do  you  think — what  do  you  think,  Mr. 
Pickwick — 1  have  come  down  liere  for?" 

Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^' it  is  wholly 
impossible  for  me  to  guess;  on  business,  perhaps." 


316 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


'^Partly  right,  sir/' replied  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  ''but 
partly  wrong,  at  the  same  time;  try  again,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

''Really,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  must  throw  myself 
on  your  mercy,  to  tell  me  or  not,  as  you  may  think  best; 
for  I  should  never  guess,  if  I  were  to  try  all  night." 

"Why,  then,  he — he — lie!"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus, 
with  a  bavShful  titter.  "  V/hat  should  you  think,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  if  I  had  come  down  here  to  make  a  proposal, 
sir,  eh?    He — he — he!" 

"  Think!  that  3^ou  are  very  likely  to  succeed,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  one  of  his  most  beaming  smiles. 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "  but  do  you  really  think  so, 
Mr.  Pickwick?  Do  you,  though?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"No;  but  you're  joking,  though." 

"  I  am  not,  indeed." 

"Why,  then,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "to  let  you  into  a  little 
secret,  I  think  so,  too.  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Mr, 
Pickwick,  although  Pm  dreadfully  jealous  by  nature- - 
horrid — that  the  lady  is  in  this  house."  Here  Mr.  Mag- 
nus took  off  his  spectacles  on  purpose  to  wink,  and  then 
put  them  on  again. 

"  That's  what  you  were  running  out  of  the  room  for, 
before  dinner,  then,  so  often,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  archly. 

"  Plush — yes,  you're  right,  that  was  it;  not  such  a  fool 
as  to  see  her,  though." 

"No!"  • 

"No;  wouldn't  do,  you  know,  after  having  just  come 
off  a  journey.  Wait  till  to-morrow,  sir;  double  the 
chance  then.  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir,  there  is  a  suit  of  clothes 
in  that  bag,,  and  a  hat  in  that  box,  which  I  expect,  in  the 
effect  they  will  produce,  will  be  invaluable  to  me,  sir." 

"Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Yes;  you  must  have  observed  my  anxiety  about 
them  to-day.  I  do  not  believe  that  such  another  suit  oi 
clothes,  and  such  a  hat,  could  be  bought  for  money,  Mr. 
Pickwick." 

Mr.  Pickwick  congratulated  the  fortunate  owner  of 
the  irresistible  garments  on  their  acquisition;  and  Mr. 
Peter  Magnus  remained  for  a  few  moments  apparently 
absorbed  in  contemplation. 

"  She's  a  fine  creature,"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

"Is  she?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Very,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "very.    She  lives  about 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


31? 


twenty  miles  from  here,  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  heard  she 
would  be  here  to-night  and  all  to-morrow  forenoon,  and 
came  down  to  seize  the  opportmiity.  I  think  an  inn  is 
a  good  sort  of  a  place  to  propose  to  a  single  woman  in, 
Mr.  Pickwick.  She  is  more  likely  to  feel  the  loneliness 
of  her  situation  in  travelling,  perhaps,  than  she  would 
be  at  home.    What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

^'I  think  it  is  very  probable,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

^'I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus,  "^'but  I  am  naturally  rather  curious;  what  may 
you  have  come  down  here  for?" 

"  On  a  far  less  pleasant  errand,  sir/'  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, the  colour  mounting  to  his  face  at  the  recollection. 
^^I  have  come  down  here,  sir,  to  expose  the  treachery 
and  falsehood  of  an  individual  upon  whose  truth  and 
honour  I  placed  implicit  reliance." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  ''that's  very  un- 
pleasant. It  is  a  lady,  I  presume?  Eh?  ah!  Sly,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  sly.  Well,  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir,  I  wouldn't 
probe  your  feelings  for  the  world.  Painful  subjects, 
these,  sir,  very  painful.  Don't  mind  me,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
if  you  wish  to  give  vent  to  your  feelings.  I  know  what 
it  is  to  be  jilted,  sir;  I  have  endured  that  sort  of  thing 
three  or  four  times." 

''I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  condolence  on 
what  you  presume  to  be  my  melancholy  case,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  winding  up  his  watch  and  laying  it  on  the 
table,  ''but—" 

No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "  not  a  word  more: 
it's  a  painful  subject.  I  see,  I  see.  What's  the  time,  Mr. 
Pickwick?" 

"  Past  twelve." 

"  Dear  me,  it's  time  to  go  to  bed.  It  will  never  do,  sit- 
ting here.    I  shall  be  pale  to-morrow,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

At  the  bare  notion  of  such  a  calamity,  Mr.  Peter  Mag- 
nus rang  the  bell  for  the  chamber-maid;  and  the  stripiHl. 
bag,  the  red  bag,  the  leathern  hat-box,  and  the  brown- 
paper  parcel,  having  been  conveyed  to  his  bed-room,  lie 
retired  in  company  with  a  japanned  candlestick  to  one 
side  of  the  house,  while  Mr.  Pickwick  and  another 
jaY)anned  candlestick  were  conducted  through  a  nmlti- 
tude  of  tortuous  windings,  to  another. 

''This  is  your  room,  sir,"  said  the  chamber-maid. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickv/ick,  looking  round  him. 


318 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


It  was  a  tolerably  large  double-bedded  room,  with  a  fire; 
upon  the  whole,  a  more  comfortable-looking  apartment 
than  Mr.  Pickwick's  short  experience  of  the  accomm.o- 
dations  of  the  Great  White  Horse  had  led  him  to  expect. 

''Nobody  sleeps  in  the  other  bed,  of  course,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir." 

''Very  good.  Tell  my  servant  to  bring  me  up  some 
hot  water  at  half -past  eight  in  the  morning,  and  that  I 
shall  not  want  him  any  more  to-night." 

"Yes,  sir."  And  bidding  Mr.  Pickwick  good-night, 
the  chamber-maid  retired,  and  left  him  alone. 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  before  the 
fire,  and  fell  into  a  train  of  rambling  meditations.  First 
he  thought  of  his  friends,  and  wondered  when  they 
would  join  him  ;  then  his  mind  reverted  to  Mrs.  MartKa 
Bardeli  ;  and  from  that  lady  it  wandered,  by  a  naturrJ 
process,  to  the  dingy  counting-house  of  Dodson  and 
Fogg.  From  Dodson  and  Fogg's  it  flew  off  at  a  tangent 
to  the  very  centre  of  the  history  of  the  queer  client,  and 
then  it  came  back  to  the  Great  White  Horse  at  Ipswich, 
with  sufficient  clearness  to  convince  Mr.  Pickwick  that 
he  was  falling  asleep  ;  so  he  roused  himself,  and  began 
to  undress,  when  he  recollected  he  had  left  his  watch  on 
the  table  down  stairs. 

Now,  this  watch  was  a  special  favourite  with  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, having  been  carried  about  beneath  the  shadow  of 
his  waistcoat  for  a  greater  number  of  years  than  we  feel 
called  upon  to  state  at  present.  The  possibility  of  going 
to  sleep,  unless  it  were  ticking  gently  beneath  his  pil- 
low or  in  the  watch-pocket  over  his  head,  had  never  en- 
tered Mr.  Pickwick's  brain.  So,  a.s  it  was  pretty  late 
now,  and  he  vv^as  unwilling  to  ring  his  bell  at  that  hour 
of  the  night,  he  slipped  on  his  coat,  of  which  he  had 
just  divested  himself,  and  taking  the  japanned  candle- 
stick in  his  hand,  walked  quietly  down  stairs. 

The  more  stairs  Mr.  Pickwick  went  down  the  more 
stairs  there  seemed  to  be  to  descend,  and  again  and 
again,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  got  into  some  narrow  pas- 
sage, and  began  to  congratulate  himself  on  having 
gained  the  ground  floor,  did  another  flight  of  stairs  ap- 
pear before  his  astonished  eyes.  At  last  he  reached  a 
stone  hall,  which  he  remembered  to  have  seen  when  he 
entered  the  house.    Passage  after  passage  did  he  ex- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


319 


plore  ;  room  after  room  did  he  peep  into;  at  length,  just 
as  he  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  search  in  desjjair, 
he  opened  the  door  of  the  identical  room  in  whicli  lie 
had  spent  the  evening,  and  beheld  his  missing  properly 
on  the  table. 

Mr.  Pickwick  seized  the  watch  in  triumph,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  retrace  his  steps  to  his  bedchamber.  If  his 
progress  downwards  had  been  attended  with  difficulties 
and  uncertainty,  his  journey  back  was  infinitely  more 
perplexing.  Rows  of  doors,  garnished  with  boots  of 
every  shape,  make  and  size,  branched  off  in  every  pos- 
sible direction.  A  dozen  times  did  he  softly  turn  the 
handle  of  some  bedroom  door,  whicli  resembled  his  own, 
when  a  gruff  cry  from  within  of  Who  the  devil's 
that  or  What  do  you  want  here  ?"  caused  him  to 
steal  away  on  tiptoe  with  a  perfectly  marvellous  celerity. 
He  was  reduced  to  the  verge  of  despair  when  an  open 
door  attracted  his  attention.  He  peeped  in — right  at 
last.  There  were  the  two  beds,  whose  situation  he  per- 
fectly remembered,  and  the  fire  still  burning.  His 
candle,  not  a  long  one  when  he  first  received  it,  had 
flickered  away  in  the  draughts  of  air  through  which  he 
had  passed,  and  sunk  into  the  socket  just  as  lie  closed  the 
door  after  him.  '^No  matter,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '^I 
can  undress  myself  just  as  well  by  the  light  of  the  fire." 

The  bedsteads  stood  one  on  each  side  of  the  door,  and 
on  the  inner  side  of  each  was  a  little  path,  terminating 
in  a  rush-bottomed  chair,  just  wide  enough  to  admit  of 
a  person's  getting  into  or  out  of  bed  on  that  side,  if  he 
or  she  thought  proper.  Having  carefully  drawn  the 
curtains  of  his  bed  on  the  outside,  Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down 
on  the  rush-bottomed  chair,  and  leisurely  divested  him- 
self of  his  shoes  and  gaiters.  He  then  took  off  and 
folded  up  his  coat,  waistcoat  and  neckcloth,  and  slowly 
drawing  on  his  tasseled  night-cap,  secured  it  firmly  on 
his  head,  by  tying  beneath  his  chin  the  strings  which 
he  always  had  attached  to  that  article  of  dress.  It  was 
at  this  moment  that  the  absurdity  of  his  recent  bewilder- 
ment struck  upon  his  mind  ;  and  throwing  himself  back 
in  the  rush-bottomed  chair,  Mr.  Pickwick  laughed  to 
himself  so  heartily  that  it  would  have  been  quite  delight- 
ful to  any  man  of  well-constituted  mind  to  have  watched 
the  smiles  which  expanded  his  amiable  features  as  they 
shone  forth  from  beneath  the  night-cap. 


320 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''It  is  the  best  idea,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  himself , 
smiling  till  he  almost  cracked  the  nightcap  strings  ;  ''  it 
is  the  best  idea,  my  losing  myself  in  this  place,  and  wan- 
dering about  those  staircases,  that  1  ever  heard  of. 
Droll,  droll,  very  droll."  Here  Mr.  Pickwick  smiled 
again,  a  broader  smile  than  before,  and  was  about  to 
continue  the  process  of  undressing,  in  the  best  possible 
humour,  when  he  was  suddenly  stopped  by  a  most  un- 
expected interruption,  to  wit,  the  entrance  into  the 
room  of  some  person  with  a  candle,  who,  after  locking 
the  door,  advanced  to  the  dressing-table,  and  set  down 
the  light  upon  it. 

The  smile  that  played  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  features,  VN^as 
instantaneously  lost  in  a  look  of  the  most  unbounded 
and  wonder-stricken  surprise.  The  person,  whoever  it 
was,  had  come  in  so  suddenly  and  with  so  little  noise, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  had  had  no  time  to  call  out,  or  op- 
pose their  entrance.  Who  could  it  be?  A  robber? 
Some  evil-minded  person  who  had  seen  him  come  up- 
stairs with  a  handsome  watch  in  his  hand,  perhaps. 
What  was  he  to  do? 

The  only  way  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  catch 
a  glimpse  of  his  mysterious  visitor,  with  the  least 
danger  of  being  seen  himself,  was  by  creeping  on 
to  the  bed,  and  peeping  out  from  between  the  cur- 
tains on  the  opposite  side.  To  this  manoeuvre  he 
accordingly  resorted.  Keeping  the  curtains  care- 
fully closed  with  his  hand,  so  that  nothing  more  of 
him  could  be  seen  than  his  face  and  nightcap,  and 
putting  on  his  spectacles,  he  mustered  up  courage,  and 
looked  out. 

Mr.  Pickwick  almost  fainted  with  horror  and  dismay. 
Standing  before  the  dressing  glass  was  a  middle-aged 
lady  in  yellow  curl-papers,  busily  engaged  in  brushing 
what  ladies  call  their  ''back  hair."  However  the  un- 
conscious middle-aged  lady  came  into  the  room,  it  was 
quite  clear  that  she  contemplated  remaining  there  for 
the  night;  for  she  had  brought  a  rushlight  and  shade 
with  her,  which,  with  praiseworthy  precaution  against 
fire,  she  had  stationed  in  a  basin  on  the  floor,  where  it 
was  glimmering  away,  like  a  gigantic  lighthouse,  in  a 
particularly  small  piece  of  water. 

"Bless  my  soul,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  "what  a 
dreadful  thing!" 


THE  MIDDLE-AGED  LADY  IN  THE  DOUBLE-BEDDED  ROOM. 


Pickwick  Papers. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


^^Hemr'  said  the  lady;  and  in  went  Mr.  Pickwick's 
head  with  automaton-like  rapidity. 

"  I  never  met  with  anything  so  awful  as  this/'  thought 
poor  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  cold  perspiration  starting  in 
drops  upon  his  nightcap.    "  Never.    This  is  fearful." 

It  was  quite  impossible  to  resist  the  urgent  desire  to 
see  what  was  going  forward.  So,  out  went  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's head  again.  The  prospect  was  worse  than  before. 
The  middle-aged  lady  had  finished  arranging  her  hair: 
had  carefully  enveloped  it  in  a  muslin  nightcap  with  a 
small  plaited  border;  and  was  gazing  pensively  on  the  fire. 

''This  matter  is  growing  alarming,"  reasoned  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  himself.  "  I  cannot  allow  things  to  go  on 
in  this  way.  By  the  self-possession  of  that  lady  it  is  clear 
to  me  that  I  must  have  come  into  the  wrong  room.  If 
I  call  out,  she'll  alarm  the  house;  but  if  I  remain  here, 
the  consequences  will  be  still  more  frightful." 

Mr.  Pickwick,  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  say,  was  one 
of  the  most  modest  and  delicate-minded  of  mortals. 
The  very  idea  of  exhibiting  his  nightcap  to  a  lady  over- 
powered him,  but  he  had  tied  those  confounded  strings 
in  a  knot,  and,  do  what  he  would,  he  couldn't  get  it  off. 
The  disclosure  must  be  made.  There  was  only  one  other 
way  of  doing  it.  He  shrunk  behind  the  curtains,  and 
called  out  very  loudly: 

^' Ha— hum!" 

That  the  lady  started  at  this  unexpected  sound  was 
evident,  by  her  falling  up  against  the  rush-light  shade; 
that  she  persuaded  herself  it  must  have  been  the  effect 
of  her  imagination  was  equally  clear,  for  when  Mr. 
Pickwick,  under  the  impression  that  she  had  fainted 
away,  stone-dead  from  fright,  ventured  to  peep  out 
again,  she  was  gazing  pensively  on  the  fire  as  before. 

''Most  extraordinary  female  this,"  thought  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, popping  in  again.    "  Ha — hum." 

These  last  sounds,  so  like  those  in  which,  as  legends 
inform  us,  the  ferocious  giant  Blunderbore  was  in  the 
habit  of  expressing  his  opinion  that  it  was  time  to  lay 
the  cloth,  were  too  distinctly  audible  to  be  again  mis- 
taken for  the  working  of  fancy. 

"  Gracious  Heaven!"  said  the  middle-aged  lady,  what's 
that!" 

"It's — it's — only  a  gentleman,  ma'am/'  said  Mr,  Pick- 
wick from  behind  the  curtains. 


328  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


A  gentleman?"  said  the  lady,  with  a  terrific  scream. 

''It's  all  over,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^'A  strange  man!"  shrieked  the  lady.  Another  in- 
stant, and  the  house  would  be  alarmed.  Her  garments 
rustled  as  she  rushed  towards  the  door. 

Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thrusting  out  his  head, 
in  the  extremity  of  his  desperation,  "  ma'am." 

Now  although  Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  actuated  by  any 
definite  object  in  putting  out  his  head,  it  was  instan- 
taneously productive  of  a  good  effect.  The  lady,  as  we 
have  already  stated,  was  near  the  door.  She  must  pass 
it  to  reach  the  staircase,  and  she  would  most  undoubt- 
edly have  done  so,  by  this  time,  had  not  the  sudden 
apparition  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  nightcap  driven  her  back, 
into  the  remotest  corner  of  the  apartment,  where  she 
stood,  staring  wildly  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  while  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, in  his  turn,  stared  wildly  at  her. 
•  Wretch,"  said  the  lady,  covering  her  eyes  with  her 
hands,    what  do  you  want  here  ?" 

''Nothing,  ma'am — nothing  whatever,  ma'am;"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly. 

"  Nothing  !"  said  the  lady,  looking  up. 

"  Nothing,  ma'am,  upon  my  honour,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, nodding  his  head  so  energetically,  that  the  tassel 
of  his  night-cap  danced  again.  "  I  ani  almost  ready  to 
sink,  ma'am,  beneath  the  confusion  of  addressing  a  lady 
in  my  night-cap  (here  the  lady  snatched  off  help's)  but  I 
can't  get  it  off,  ma'am  (here  Mr.  Pickwick  gave  it  a  tre- 
mendous tug,  in  proof  of  his  statement).  It  is  evident 
to  me,  ma'am,  now,  that  I  have  mistaken  this  bedroom 
for  my  own.  I  had  not  been  here  five  minutes,  ma'am, 
when  you  suddenly  entered  it." 

"  If  this  improbable  story  be  really  true,  sir,"  said  the 
lady,  sobbing  violently,  "  you  will  leave  it  instantly." 

"  I  will,  ma'am,  with  the  greatest  pleasure,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Instantly,  sir,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Certainty,  ma'am,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick,  very 
quickly.  "  Certainly,  ma'am.  I — I — am  very  sorry, 
ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  making  his  appearance  at 
the  bottom  of  the  bed,  "  to  have  been  the  innocent  occa- 
sion of  this  alarm  and  emotion;  deeply  sorry,  ma'am." 

The  lady  pointed  to  the  door.  One  excellent  quality 
of  Mr.  Pickwick's  character  was  beautifully  displayed 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


323 


at  this  moment,  under  the  most  trying  circumstances. 
Although  he  had  hastily  put  on  his  hat  over  his  night- 
cap, after  the  manner  of  the  old  patrol;  although  he 
carried  his  shoes  and  gaiters  in  his  hand,  and  his  coat 
and  waistcoat  over  his  arm,  nothing  could  subdue  his 
native  politeness. 

^'I  am  exceedingly  sorry,  ma'am/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
bowing  very  low. 

"  If  you  are,  sir,  you  will  at  once  leave  the  room,"  said 
the  lady. 

Immediately,  ma'am;  this  instant,  ma'am,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  opening  the  door,  and  dropping  both  his  shoes 
with  a  loud  crash  in  so  doing. 

I  trust,  ma'am,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  gathering 
up  his  shoes,  and  turning  round  to  bow  again.  * 'I  trust, 
Ma'am,  that  my  unblemished  character,  and  the  devoted 
respect  I  entertain  for  your  sex,  will  plead  as  some  slight 
excuse  for  this." — But  before  Mr.  Pickwick  could  con- 
clude the  sentence,  the  lady  had  thrust  him  into  the  pas- 
sage, and  locked  and  bolted  the  door  behind  him. 

Whatever  grounds  of  self-congratulation  Mr.  Pick- 
wick might  have,  for  having  escaped  so  quietly  from  his 
late  awkward  situation,  his  present  position  was  by  no 
means  enviable.  He  was  alone,  in  an  open  passage,  in 
a  strange  house,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  half  dressed; 
it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  could  find  his  way  in 
perfect  darkness  to  a  room  which  he  had  been  wholly 
unable  to  discover  with  a  light,  and  if  he  made  the 
slightest  noise  in  his  fruitless  attempts  to  do  so,  he  stood 
every  chance  of  being  shot  at,  and  perhaps  killed,  by 
some  wakeful  traveller.  He  had  no  resource  but  to  re- 
main where  he  was,  until  daylight  appeared.  So  after 
gi'oping  his  way  a  few  paces  down  the  passage,  and,  to 
liis  infinite  alarm,  stumbling  over  several  pairs  of  boots 
in  so  doing,  Mr.  Pickwick  crouched  into  a  little  recess 
in  the  wall,  to  wait  for  morning,  as  philosophically  as 
he  might. 

He  was  not  destined,  however,  to  undergo  this  addi- 
tional trial  of  patience  :  for  he  had  not  been  long  en- 
sconced in  his  present  concealment  when,  to  his  unspeak- 
able horror,  a  man,  bearing  a  light,  appeared  at  the  end 
of  the  passage.  His  horror  was  suddenly  converted 
into  ioy,  however,  when  he  recognized  the  form  of  his 
faithful  attendant.    It  was,  indeed,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller, 


324  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

who  after  sitting  up  thus  late,  in  conversation  with  the 
Boots,  who  was  sitting  up  for  the  mail,  was  now  about 
to  retire  to  rest. 

Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly  appearing  before 
him,  '^Where's  my  bed-room 

Mr.  Weller  stared  at  his  master  with  the  most  em- 
phatic surprise;  and  it  was  not  until  the  question  had 
l3een  repeated  three  several  times  that  he  turned  round 
and  led  the  way  to  the  long-sought  apartment. 

Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  got  into  bed,  ''I  have 
made  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  mistakes  to-night 
that  ever  were  heard  of." 

"  Worry  likely,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  drily. 

"  But  of  this  I  am  determined,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; "  that  if  I  were  to  stop  at  this  house  for  six  months, 
^  I  would  never  trust  myself  about  it,  alone,  again." 

That's  the  worry  prudentest  resolution  as  you  could 
come  to,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  ''You  rayther  want 
somebody  to  look  arter  you,  sir,  when  your  judgment 
goes  out  a  wisitin'." 

''What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. He  raised  himself  in  bed,  and  extended  his  hand, 
as  if  he  were  about  to  say  something  more;  but  sud- 
denly checking  himself,  turned  round,  and  bade  his 
valet  "Good  night." 

"Good  night,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  He  paused 
when  he  got  outside  the  door — shook  his  head — walked 
on — stopped — snuffed  the  candle — shook  his  head  again 
—and  finally  proceeded  slowly  to  his  chamber,  ap- 
parently buried  in  the  profoundest  meditation. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


3^5 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

IN  WHICH   MR.  SAMUEL  WELLER   BEGINS   TO  DEVOTE  HIS 
ENERGIES  TO  THE  RETURN  MATCH  BETWEEN 
HIMSELF  AND  MR.  TROTTER. 

In  a  small  room  in  the  vicinity  of  the  stable-yard,  be- 
times in  the  morning,  which  was  ushered  in  by  Mr. 
Pickwick's  adventure  with  the  middle-aged  lady  in  the 
yellow  curl-papers,  sat  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  preparing 
himself  for  his  journey  to  London.  He  was  sitting  in 
an  excellent  attitude  for  having  his  portrait  taken. 

It  is  very  possible  that,  at  some  earlier  period  of  his 
career,  Mr.  Weller's  profile  might  have  presented  a  bold 
and  determined  outline.  His  face,  however,  had  ex- 
panded under  the  influence  of  good  living,  and  a  dispo- 
sition remarkable  for  resignation;  and  its  bold  fleshy 
curves  had  so  far  extended  beyond  the  limits  originally 
assigned  them,  that,  unless  you  took  a  full  view  of  his 
countenance  in  front,  it  was  diflicult  to  distinguish  more 
than  the  extreme  tip  of  a  very  rubicund  nose.  His  chin, 
from  the  same  cause,  had  acquired  the  grave  and  im- 
posing form  which  is  generally  described  by  prefixing 
the  word  double"  to  that  expressive  feature;  and  his 
complexion  exhibited  that  peculiarly  mottled  combina- 
tion of  colours  which  is  only  to  be  seen  in  gentlemen  of 
his  profession,  and  in  underdone  roast  beef.  Round  his 
neck  he  wore  a  crimson  travelling  sKawl,  which  merged 
into  his  chin  by  such  imperceptible  gradations,  that  it 
was  difficult  to  distinguish  the  folds  of  the  one  from  the 
folds  of  the  other.  Over  this,  he  mounted  a  long  v/aist- 
coat  of  a  broad  pink-striped  pattern,  and,  over  that 
again,  a  wide-skirted  green  coat,  ornamented  with  large 
brass  buttons,  whereof  the  two  which  garnished  the 
waist  were  so  far  apart  that  no  man  had  ever  beheld 
them  both  at  the  same  time.  His  hair,  which  was 
short,  sleek,  and  black,  was  just  visible  beneath  the 
capacious  brim  of  a  low-crowned  brown  hat.  His  legs 
were  encased  in  knee-cord  breeches,  and  painted  top- 
boots:  and  a  copper  watch-chain,  terminating  in  one 
seal,  and  a  key  of  the  same  material,  dangled  loosely 
from  his  capacious  waistband. 


326 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


We  have  said  that  Mr.  Weller  was  engaged  in  prepar- 
ing for  his  journey  to  London — he  was  taking  suste- 
nance, in  fact.  On  the  table  before  him  stood  a  pot  of 
ale,  a  cold  round  of  beef,  and  a  very  respectable-looking 
loaf,  to  each  of  which  he  distributed  his  favors  in  turn, 
with  the  most  rigid  impartiality.  He  had  just  cut  a 
mighty  slice  from  the  latter,  when  the  foot-steps  of  some- 
body entering  the  room,  caused  him  to  raise  his  head; 
and  he  beheld  his  son. 

''Mornin',  Sammy!''  said  the  father. 

The  son  walked  up  to  the  pot  of  ale,  and  nodding  sig- 
nificantly to  his  parent,  took  a  long  draught  by  way  of 
reply. 

Worry  good  power  o'  suction,  Sammy,"  said  Mr. 
Weller  the  elder,  looking  into  the  pot,  when  his  first- 
born had  set  it  down  half  empty.  You'd  ha'  made  an 
uncommon  fine  oyster,  Sammy,  if  you'd  been  born  in 
that  station  o'  life." 

''Yes,  I  des-say  I  should  ha'  managed  to  pick  up  a 
respectable  livin',"  replied  Sam,  applying  himself  to  the 
cold  beef,  with  considerable  vigour. 

•'I'm  worry  sorry,  Sammy,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Wel- 
ler, shaking  up  the  ale,  by  describing  small  circles  with 
the  pot,  preparatory  to  drinking.  "Im  worry  sorry, 
Sammy,  to  hear  from  your  lips,  as  you  let  yourself  be 
gammoned  by  that  'ere  mulberry  man.  I  always  thought, 
up  to  three  days  ago,  that  the  names  of  Veller  and  gam- 
mon could  never  come  in  contract,  Sammy — never." 

"  Always  exceptin' the  case  of  a  widder,  of  course," 
said  Sam. 

"  Widders,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  slightly 
changing  colour.  *'  Widders  are  'ceptions  to  ev'ry  rule. 
I  have  hec  rd  how  many  ord'nary  women  one  widder's 
equal  to,  in  pint  .o'  comin  over  you.  I  think  it's  five- 
and-twenty,  but  I  don't  rightly  know  vether  it  an't  more." 

"Well;  that's  pretty  well,"  said  Sam. 

"Besides,"  continued  Mr.  Weller,  not  noticing  the  in- 
terruption, "that's  a  worry  different  thing.  You  know 
what  the  counsel  said,  Sammy,  as  defended  the  gen'lem'n 
as  beat  his  wife  with  the  poker,  venever  he  got  jolly. 
^  And  arter  all,  my  Lord,'  says  he,  'it's  a  amable  weak- 
ness.' So  I  says  respectin'  widders,  Sammy,  and  so  you'll 
say,  ven  vou  gets  as  old  as  me." 

"  I  ought  to  ha'  know'd  better,  I  know,"  said  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


'*Ought  to  ha' know'd  better  repeated  Mr.  Weller. 
striking  the  table  with  his  fist.  ''Ought  to  ha'  know'd 
better  I"  why,  I  know  a  young  'un  as  hasn't  had  half  nor 
quarter  your  eddication — as  hasn't  slept  about  the  mar- 
kets, no,  not  six  months — who'd  ha'  scorned  to  be  let  in, 
in  such  a  vay;  scorned  it,  Sammy."  In  the  excitement 
of  feeling  produced  by  this  agonizing  reflection,  Mr. 
Weller  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  an  additional  pint  of 
iile. 

''Well,  it's  no  use  talking  about  it  now,"  said  Sam. 

It's  over,  and  can't  be  helped,  and  that's  one  consola- 
tion; as  they  always  says  in  Turkey,  ven  they  cuts  the 
wrong  man's  head  off.  It's  my  innings  now,  governor, 
c  nd  as  soon  as  I  catches  hold  o'  this  ere  Trotter,  I'll  have 
a  good  'u'n." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  Sammy.  I  hope  you  will,"  returned 
Mr.  Weller.  "Here's  your  health,  Sammy,  and  may 
you  speedily  vipe  off  the  disgrace  as  you've  inflicted  on 
the  family  name."  In  honour  of  this  toast  Mr.  Weller 
imbibed  a  draught,  at  least  two-thirds  of  the  newly- 
arrived  pint,  and  handed  it  over  to  his  son,  to  dispose  of 
the  remainder,  which  he  instantaneously  did. 

"And  now,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  consulting  the 
large  double-cased  silver  watch  that  hung  at  the  end  of 
the  copper  chain.  "  Now  it's  time  I  was  up  at  the  office 
to  get  my  vay-bill,  and  see  the  coach  loaded;  for  coaches, 
Sammy,  is  like  guns — they  requires  to  be  loaded  with 
werry  great  care,  afQre  they  go  off." 

At  this  parental  and  professional  joke,  Mr.  Weller, 
junior,  smiled  a  filial  smile.  His  revered  parent  con- 
tinned,  in  a  solemn  tone: 

"  I'm  goin'  to  leave  you,  Samivel,  my  boy,  and  there's 
no  telling  ven  I  shall  see  vou  again.  Your  mother-in- 
law  may  ha'  been  too  much  for  me,  or  a  thousand  things 
may  have  happened  by  the  time  you  next  hears  any 
news  o'  the  celebrated  Mr.  Veller  o'  the  Bell  Savage. 
The  family  name  depends  werry  much  upon  you,  Sami- 
vel, and  I  hope  you'll  do  wot's  right  by  it.  Upon  all 
little  pints  o'  Tbreedin',  I  know  I  may  trust  you  as  veil  as 
if  it  was  my  own  self.  So  I've  only  this  here  one  little 
bit  of  adwice  to  give  you.  If  ever  you  gets  to  up'ards  o' 
fifty,  and  feels  disposed  to  fto  a  marryin'  anybody — no 
matter  who — just  you  shut  yourself  up  in  your  own 
foom,  if  you've  got  one,  ai\d  pison  yourself  off  hand. 


328  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Hangin's  wulgar,  so  don't  you  have  nothin'  to  say  to 
that.  Pison  yourself,  Samivel,  my  boy,  pison  yourself, 
and  you'll  be  glad  on  it  arterwards."  With  these  aff  ect- 
ing words,  Mr.  Weller  looked  steadfastly  on  his  son,  and 
turning  slowly  on  his  heel,  disappeared  from  his  sight. 

In  the  contem^plative  mood  which  these  words  had 
awakened,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  walked  forth  from  the 
Great  White  Horse  when  his  father  had  left  him;  and 
bending  his  steps  towards  St.  Clement's  Church,  en- 
deavoured to  dissipate  his  melancholy  by  strolling  among 
its  ancient  precincts.  He  had  loitered  about  for  some 
time  when  he  found  himself  in  a  retired  spot — a  kind  of 
court-yard  of  venerable  appearance — which  he  discovered 
had  no  other  outlet  than  the  turning  by  which  he  had 
entered.  He  was  about  retracing  his  steps  when  he  was 
suddenly  transfixed  to  the  spot  by  a  sudden  appearance; 
and  the  mode  and  manner  of  this  appearance  we  now 
Ijroceed  to  rela.te. 

Mr.  Samuel  Weller  had  been  staring  up  at  the  old  red 
brick  houses  now  and  then,  in  his  deep  abstraction,  be- 
stowing a  wink  upon  some  healthy-looking  servant-girl 
as  she  drew  up  a  blind  or  threw  open  a  bed-room  win- 
dow, when  the  green  gate  of  a  garden  at  the  bottom  of 
the  yard  opened,  and  a  man  having  emerged  therefrom, 
closed  the  green  gate  very  carefully  after  him  and 
walked  briskly  towards  the  very  spot  where  Mr.  Weller 
was  standing. 

Now,  taking  this  as  an  isolated  fact,  unaccompanied 
by  any  attendant  circumstances,  there  was  nothing  very 
extraordinary  in  it;  because  in  many  parts  of  the  world 
men  do  come  out  of  gardens,  close  green  gates  after 
them,  and  even  walk  briskly  away,  without  attracting 
any  particular  share  of  public  observation.  It  is  clear, 
therefore,  that  there  must  have  been  something  in  the 
man  or  in  his  manner,  or  both,  to  attract  Mr.  Weller's 
particular  notice.  Whether  there  was  or  not  we  must 
leave  the  reader  to  determine,  when  we  have  faithfully 
recounted  the  behaviour  of  the  individual  in  question. 

When  the  man  had  shut  the  green  gate  after  him,  he 
walked,  as  we  have  said  twice  already,  with  a  brisk  pace 
up  the  court-yard;  but  he  no  sooner  caught  sight  of 
Mr.  Weller  than  he  faltered,:and  stopped  as  if  uncertain, 
for  the  moment,  what  course  to  adopt.  As  the  green 
gate  was  closed  behind  him,  and  there  was  no  other  out- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  329 


let  but  the  one  in  front,  however,  he  was  not  long  in  per- 
ceiving that  he  must  pass  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  to  get 
away.  He  therefore  resumed  his  brisk  pace  and  ad- 
vanced, staring  straight  before  him.  The  most  extraor- 
dinary thing  about  the  man  was  that  he  was  contorting 
his  face  into  the  most  fearful  and  astonishing  grimaces 
that  ever  were  beheld.  Nature's  handiwork  never  was 
disguised  with  such  extraordinary  artificial  carving  as 
the  man  had  overlaid  his  countenance  with  in  one 
moment. 

'•  Well!"  said  Mr.  Weller  to  himself,  as  the  man  ap- 
proached. "  This  is  worry  odd.  I  could  ha'  swore  it  was 
him." 

Up  came  the  man  and  his  face  became  more  fright- 
fully distorted  than  ever  as  he  drew  nearer. 

''  I  could  take  my  oath  to  that  'ere  black  hair  and  mul- 
berry suit,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  ''only  I  never  see  such  a 
face  as  that  afore." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this  the  man's  features  assumed 
an  unearthly  twinge,  perfectly  hideous.  He  was  obliged 
to  pass  very  near  Sam,  however,  and  the  scrutinizing 
glance  of  that  gentleman  enabled  him  to  detect,  under 
all  these  appalling  twists  of  feature,  something  too  like 
the  small  eyes  of  Mr.  Job  Trotter  to  be  easily  mistaken. 

''  Hallo,  you  sir!"  shouted  Sam,  fiercely. 

The  stranger  stopped. 

"  Hallo!"  repeated  Sam,  still  more  gruffly. 

The  man  with  the  horrible  face  looked,  with  the 
greatest  surprise,  up  the  court  and  down  the  court  and 
in  at  the  windows  of  the  houses — every  where  but  at  Sam 
Weller — and  took  another  step  forward,  when  he  was 
brought  to  again  by  another  shout. 

Hallo,  you  sir!"  said  Sam,  for  the  third  time. 

There  was  no  pretending  to  mistake  where  the  voice 
came  from  now,  so  the  stranger,  having  no  other 
resource,  at  last  looked  Sam  Weller  full  in  the  face. 

'•  It  won't  do,  Job  Trotter,"  said  Sam.  "Come!  None 
o'  that  'ere  nonsense.  You  ain't  so  werry  'ansome  that 
you  can  afford  to  throw  avay  many  o'  your  good  looks. 
Bring  them  'ere  eyes  o'  your'n  back  into  their  proper 
places  or  I'll  knock  'em  out  of  your  head.  Dy'e 
hear?" 

As  Mr.  Weller  appeared  fully  disposed  to  act  up  to  the 
spirit  of  this  address,  Mr.  Trotter  gradually  allowed  his 


I 


830  *  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

face  to  resume  its  natural  expression;  and  then  giving  a 
start  of  joy,  exclaimed,  ''What  do  I  see!   Mr.  Walker!" 

''Ah,"  replied  Sam.  "You're  werry  glad  to  see  me, 
ain't  you?" 

"Glad!"  exclaimed  Job  Trotter;  "oh,  Mr.  Walker,  if 
you  had  but  known  how  I  have  looked  forward  to  this 
meeting!  It  is  too  much,  Mr.  Walker;  I  cannot  bear  it, 
indeed  I  cannot."  And  w^th  these  words  Mr.  Trotter 
burst  into  a  regular  inundation  of  tears,  and,  flinging 
his  arms  round  those  of  Mr.  Weller,  embraced  him 
closely,  in  an  ecstacy  of  joy. 

"Get  off!"  cried  Sam  Weller,  indignant  at  this  pro- 
cess, and  vainly  endeavouring  to  extricate  himself  from 
the  grasp  of  his  enthusiastic  acquaintance.  "  Get  off,  I 
tell  you.  What  are  you  crying  over  me  for,  you  porta- 
ble ingine?" 

"  Because  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  replied  Job  Trot- 
ter, gradually  releasing  Mr.  Weller,  as  the  first  symp- 
toms of  his  pugnacity  disappeared.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Walker, 
this  is  too  much." 

"Too  much!  "echoed  Sam,  "I  think  it  is  too  much 
— rayther!   Now  what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me,  eh?  " 

Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply;  for  the  little  pink  pocket 
handkerchief  was  in  full  force. 

"'What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me,  afore  I  knock  your 
head  off  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  threatening  manner. 

"Eh!"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  with  a  look  of  virtuous  sur- 
prise. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me?  " 
"I,  Mr.  Walker?" 

"  Don't  call  me  Valker;  my  name  is  Veller;  you  know 
that  veil  enough.    What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me?" 

"Bless  you,  Mr.  Walker — Weller,  I  mean — a  great 
many  things,  if  you  will  come  away  somewhere,  where 
we  can  talk  comfortably.  If  you  knew  how  I  have  looked 
for  you,  Mr.  Weller — " 

"  Werry  hard,  indeed,  I  s'pose?"  said  Sam,  drily. 
Very,  very,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  without  mov- 
ing a  muscle  of  his  face.     "But  shake  hands,  Mr. 
Weller." 

Sam  eyed  his  companion  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then, 
as  if  actuated  by  a  sudden  impulse,  complied  with  his 
request. 

How,"  said  Job  Trotter,  as  they  walked  away,  '^how 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  331 

is  your  dear,  good  master?  Oh,  he  is  a  worthy  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Weller!  I  hope  he  didn't  catch  cold,  that 
dreadful  night,  sir." 

There  was  a  momentary  look  of  deep  slyness  in  Job 
Trotter's  eye,  as  he  said  this,  which  ran  a  thrill  through 
Mr.  Weller's  clenched  fist,  as  he  burnt  with  a  desire  to 
make  a  demonstration  on  his  ribs.  Sam  constrained 
himself,  however,  and  replied  that  his  master  was  ex- 
tremely well. 

Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  replied  Mr.  Trotter,    is  he  here?" 
"  Is  your'n?"  asked  Sam,  by  way  of  reply. 
"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  here,  and  I  grieve  to  say,  Mr.  Weller, 
he  is  going  on  worse  than  ever." 
^^Ah,  ah?"  said  Sam. 
Oh,  shocking — terrible!" 
At  a  boarding-school?  "  said  Sam. 
''No,  not  at  a  boarding-school,"  replied  Job  Trotter, 
with  the  same  sly  look  which  Sam  had  noticed  before; 
"  not  at  a  boarding-school." 

"  At  the  house  with  the  green  gate?"  inquired  Sam, 
eyeing  his  companion  closely. 

No,  no — oh,  not  there,"  replied  Job,  with  a  quickness 
very  unusual  to  him,  "  not  there." 

''What  was  you  a  doin' there?"  asked  Sam,  with  a 
sharp  glance.  "  Got  inside  the  gate  by  accident,  per- 
haps?" 

"Why,  Mr.  Weller,"  replied  Jo\),  "  I  don't  mind  tell- 
ing you  my  little  secrets,  because,  you  know,  we  took 
such  a  fancy  for  each  other  when  we  first  met.  You 
recollect  how  pleasant  we  were  that  morning?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Sam,  impatiently.  "I  remember. 
Well." 

"  Well,"  replied  Job,  speaking  with  great  precision, 
and  in  the  low  tone  of  a  man  who  communicates  an  im- 
portant secret;  "in  that  house  with  the  green  gate,  Mr. 
Weller,  they  keep  a  good  many  servants." 

"  So  I  should  think,  from  the  look  on  it,"  interposed 
Sam. 

"Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  "and  one  of  them  is  a 
cook,  who  has  saved  up  a  little  money,  Mr.  Weller,  and 
is  desirous  if  she  can  establish  herself  in  life,  to  open  a 
little  shop  in  the  chandlery  way,  you  see." 

"Yes?^' 

*'Yes,  Mr.  Weller.   Well,  sir,  I  met  her  at  a  chapel 


333 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


that  I  go  to — a  very  neat  little  chapel  in  this  town,  Mr. 
Weller,  where  they  sing  the  number  four  collection  of 
hymns,  which  I  generally  carry  about  with  me  in  a  little 
book,  which  you  may  perhaps  have  seen  in  my  hand 
— and  I  got  a  little  intimate  with  her,  Mr.  Weller,  and 
from  that,  an  acquaintance  sprung  up  between  us,  and 
I  may  venture  to  say,  Mr.  Weller,  that  I  am  to  be  the 


''Ah,  and  a  worry  amiable  chandler  youllmake,"  re- 
plied Sam,  eyeing  Job  with  a  side  look  of  intense  dis- 
like. 

''The  great  advantage  of  tViis,  Mr.  Weller,"  continued 
Job,  his  eyes  filling  with  tears  as  he  spoke,  "will  be, 
that  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  my  present  disgraceful  ser- 
vice with  that  bad  man,  and  devote  myself  to  a  better 
and  more  virtuous  life— more  like  the  way  in  which  I 
was  brought  up,  Mr.  Weller." 

"You  must  ha'  been  worry  nicely  brought  up,"  said 
Sam. 

'Oh,  very,  Mr.  Weller,  very,"  replied  Job;  at  the  rec- 
ollection of  the  purity  of  his  youthful  days,  Mr.  Trot- 
ter pulled  forth  the  pink  handkerchief,  and  wept  co- 
piously. 

"You  must  ha'  been  an  uncommon  nice  boy  to  go  to 
school  vith,'  said  Sam. 

"I  was,  sir,"  replied^  Job,  heaving  a  deep  sigh.  "I 
was  the  idol  of  the  place." 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  What  a  com- 
fort you  must  ha'  been  to  your  blessed  mother." 

At  these  words,  Mr.  Job  Trotter  inserted  an  end  of  the 
pink  handkerchief  into  the  corner  of  each  eye,  one  after 
the  other,  and  began  to  weep  copiously. 

"Wot's  the  matter  with  the  man,'' said  Sam,  indig- 
nantly. "  Chelsea  waterworks  is  nothin'  to  you.  What 
are  vou  melting  with  now — the  consciousness  o'  wil- 
lainy?" 

"  I  cannot  keep  my  feelings  down,  Mr.  Weller,"  said 
Job,  after  a  short  pause.  "To  think  that  my  master 
should  have  suspected  the  conversation  I  had  with  you, 
and  so  dragged  me  away  in  a  post-chaise,  and  after  per- 
suading the  sweet  young  lady  to  say  she  knew  nothing 
of  him,  and  bribing  the  school-mistress  to  do  the  same, 
deserted  her  for  a  better  speculation — oh  !  Mr,  Weller^ 
it  jnak^B  3hu4der. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  338 

''Oh!  that  was  the  vay,  was  it?"  said  Mr.  Weller. 
"  To  be  sure  it  was/'  replied  Job. 

''Veil/'  said  Sam,  as  they  had  now  arrived  near  the 
hotel,  "  I  vant  to  have  a  little  bit  o'  talk  with  you,  Job; 
so  if  you're  not  partickler  engaged,  I  should  like  to  see 
you  at  the  Great  White  Horse  to-night,  somewheres 
about  eight  o'clock." 

"I  shall  be  sure  to  come,"  said  Job. 

"Yes,  you'd  better/'  replied  Sam,  with  a  very  mean- 
ing look,  "or  else  I  shall  perhaps  be  askin'  arter  you  at 
the  other  side  o'  the  green  gate,  and  then  I  might  cut 
you  out,  you  know." 

"  I  shall  be  sure  to  be  with  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Trotter; 
and  wringing  Sam's  hand  with  the  utmost  fervour,  he 
walked  away. 

"  Take  care.  Job  Trotter,  take  care,"  said  Sam,  looking 
after  him,  or  I  shall  be  one  too  many  for  you  this  time: 
I  shall,  indeed."  Having  uttered  this  soliloquy,  and 
looked  after  Job  till  he  was  to  be  seen  no  more,  Mr. 
Weller  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  his  master's  bed- 
room. 

"  It's  all  in  training,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"What's  in  training,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  have  found  'em  out,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"Found  out  who?" 

"  That  'ere  queer  customer,  and  the  melan-cholly  chap 
with  the  black  hair." 

"Impossible,  Sam!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the 
greatest  energy.  "  Where  are  they,  Sam;  where  are 
they?" 

"  Hush,  hush!"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  and  as  he  assisted 
Mr.  Pickwick  to  dress  he  detailed  the  plan  of  action  on 
which  he  proposed  to  enter. 

'•But  when  is  this  to  be  done,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"All  in  good  time,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

Whether  it  was  done  in  good  time,  or  not,  will  be  seen 
hereafter. 


334  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WHEREIN  MR.  PETER  MAGNUS  GROWS  JEALOUS,  AND  THE 
MIDDLE-AGED  LADY  APPREHENSIVE,  WHICH  BRINGS  THE 
PICKWICKIANS  WITHIN  THE  GRASP  OP  THE  LAW. 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  descended  to  the  room  in  which 
he  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  had  spent  the  preceding  even- 
ing, he  found  that  gentleman  with  the  major  part  of 
the  contents  of  the  two  bags,  the  leathern  hat-box,  and 
the  brown-paper  parcel,  displayed  to  all  possible  advan- 
tage ori  his  person,  while  he  himself  was  pacing  up  and 
down  the  room  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  excitement  and 
agitation. 

Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus.  "  What 
do  you  think  of  this,  sir?  " 

^'Very  effective  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  sur- 
veying the  garments  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  with  a  good- 
^  natured  smile. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Magnus.  "  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, sir,  I  have  sent  up  my  card." 

"  Have  you?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^^Yes;  and,  the  waiter  brought  back  word  that  she 
would  see  me  at  eleven — at  eleven,  sir;  it  only  wants  a 
quarter  now." 

''Very  near  the  time,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Yes,  it  is  rather  near,"  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  "rather 
too  near  to  be  pleasant — eh!  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir?" 

"Confidence  is  a  great  thing  in  these  cases,"  observed 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I  believe  it  is,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus.  "I  am 
very  confident,  sir.  Really,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  do  not  see 
why  a  man  should  feel  any  fear  in  such  a  case  as  this, 
sir.  What  is  it,  sir?  There's  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of; 
it's  a  matter  of  mutual  accommodation,  nothing  more. 
Husband  on  one  side,  wife  on  the  other.  That's  my  view 
of  the  matter,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  It  is  a  very  philosophical  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"But  breakfast  is  waiting,  Mr.  Magnus.  Come." 

Down  they  sat  to  breakfast,  but  it  was  evident, 
notwithstanding  the  boasting  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  that 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  m 

he  laboured  under  a  very  considerable  degree  of  nerv- 
ousness, of  which  loss  of  appetite,  a  propensity  to  upset 
the  tea-things,  a  spectral  attempt  at  drollery,  and  an 
irresistible  inclination  to  look  at  the  clock,  every  other 
second,  were  among  the  principal  symptoms. 

*'He — he — he,"  tittered  Mr.  Magnus,  affecting  cheer- 
fulness, and  gasping  with  agitation.    *'It  only  wants 
two  minutes,  Mr.  Pickwick.    Am  I  pale,  sir?" 
Not  very,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
There  was  a  brief  pause. 
I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick!  but  have  you  ever 
done  this  sort  of  thing  in  your  time?"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 
You  mean  proposing?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
*^Yes." 

Never,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  energy, 
never." 

^'You  have  no  idea,  then,  how  it's  best  to  begin?" 
said  Mr.  Magnus. 

"Why,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  may  have  formed 
some  ideas  upon  the  subject,  but,  as  I  never  have  sub- 
mitted them  to  the  test  of  experience,  I  should  be  sorry 
if  you  were  induced  to  regulate  your  proceedings  by 
them," 

'^I  should  feel  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  any  ad- 
vice, sir,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  taking  another  look  at  the 
clock;  the  hand  of  which  was  verging  on  the  five  min- 
utes past. 

Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  profound 
solemnity  with  which  that  great  man  could,  when  he 
pleased,  render' his  remarks  so  deeply  impressive;  ''I 
should  commence,  sir,  with  a  tribute  to  the  lady's  beauty 
and  excellent  qualities;  from  them,  sir,  I  should  diverge 
to  my  own  unworthiness." 

''Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

''Unworthiness  for  /ler  only,  mind,  sir,"  resumed  Mr. 
Pickwick;  "  for  to  show  that  I  was  not  wholly  unworthy, 
sir,  I  should  take  a  brief  review  of  my  past  life,  and  pres- 
ent condition.  I  should  argue,  by  analogy,  that  to 
anybody  else  I  must  be  a  very  desirable  object.  I  should 
then  expatiate  on  the  warmth  of  my  love,  and  the  depth 
of  my  devotion.  Perhaps  I  might  then  be  tempted  to 
seize  her  hand." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Magnus;  "that  would  be  a  very 
great  point" 


836  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

I  should  then,  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing 
warmer  as  the  subject  presented  itself  in  more  glowing 
colours  before  him — ^^I  should  then,  sir,  come  to  the 
plain  and  simple  question,  '  Will  you  have  me?'  I  think 
I  am  justified  in  assuming  that  upon  this  she  would 
turn  away  her  head." 

^^You  think  that  may  be  taken  for  granted?"  said 
Mr.  Magnus;  ^'because,  if  she  did  not  do  that  in  the 
right  place,  it  would  be  embarrassing." 

V  I  think  she  would,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Upon  this, 
sir,  I  should  squeeze  her  hand,  and  I  think — I  think,  Mr. 
Magnus — that  after  I  had  done  that,  supposing  there 
was  no  refusal,  I  should  gently  draw  away  the  handker- 
chief, which  my  slight  knowledge  of  human  nature 
leads  me  to  suppose  the  lady  would  be  applying  to  her 
eyes  at  the  moment,  and  steal  a  respectful  kiss.  I  think 
I  should  kiss  her,  Mr.  Magnus;  and  at  this  particular 
point,  I  am  decidedly  of  the  opinion  that  if  the  lady  were 
going  to  take  me  at  all,  she  would  murmur  into  my  ears 
a  bashful  acceptance." 

Mr.  Magnus  started:  gazed  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  intelli- 
gent face  for  a  short  time  in  silence:  and  then  (the  dial 

Eointing  to  ten  minutes  past)  shook  him  warmly  by  the 
and,  and  rushed  desperately  from  the  room. 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  taken  a  few  strides  to  and  fro;  and 
the  small  hand  of  the  clock  following  the  latter  part  of 
his  example,  had  arrived  at  the  figure  which  indicates 
the  half  hour,  when  the  door  suddenly  opened.  He 
turned  round  to  greet  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  and  encoun- 
tered, in  his  stead,  the  joyous  face  of  Mr.  Tupman,  the 
serene  countenance  of  Mr.  Winkle,  and  the  intelligent 
lineaments  of  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  greeted  them,  Mr.  Peter  Magnus 
tripped  into  the  room. 

''My  friends,  the  gentlemen  I  was  speaking  of — Mr. 
Magnus,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Your  servant,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  evi- 
dently in  a  high  state  of  excitement;  "Mr.  Pickwick, 
allow  me  to  speak  to  you  one  moment,  sir." 

As  he  said  this,  Mr.  Magnus  harnessed  his  fore-finger 
to  Mr.  Pickwick's  button-hole,  and,  drawing  him  into  a 
window  recess,  said: 

"Congratulate  me,  Mr.  Pickwick;  I  followed  your  ad- 
vice to  the  very  letter." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


337 


And  it  was  all  correct,  was  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

''It  was,  sir — could  not  possibly  have  been  better/' re- 
plied Mr.  Magnus;  ''Mr.  Pickwick,  she  is  mine." 

"I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  warmly  shaking  his  new  friend  by  the  hand. 

"You  must  see  her,  sir,'*  said  Mr.  Magnus;  "this  way, 
if  you  please.  Excuse  us  for  one  instant,  gentlemen." 
Hurrying  on  in  this  way,  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  drew  Mr. 
Pickwick  from  the  room.  He  paused  at  the  next  door 
in  the  passage  and  tapped  gently  thereat. 

"Come  in!"  said  a  femxale  voice.    And  in  they  went. 

"Miss  Witherfield,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "allow  me  to 
introduce  my  very  particular  friend,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr. 
Pickwick,  I  beg  to  make  you  known  to  Miss  Wither- 
field." 

The  lady  was  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room.  As  Mr. 
Pickwick  bowed,  he  took  his  spectacles  from  his  waist- 
coat pocket  and  put  them  on;  a  process  which  he  had  no 
sooner  gone  through,  than,  uttering  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  Mr.  Pickwick  retreated  several  paces:  and  the 
lady,  with  a  half -suppressed  scream,  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  dropped  mto  a  chair:  whereupon  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus  was  stricken  motionless  on  the  spot,  and  gazed 
from  one  to  the  other,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of 
the  extremities  of  horror  and  surprise. 

This  certainly  was,  to  all  appearance,  very  unaccount- 
able behaviour;  but  the  fact  is,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  no 
sooner  put  on  his  spectacles,  than  he  at  once  recognized 
in  the  future  Mrs.  Magnus  the  lady  into  whose  room  he 
had  so  unwarrantably  intruded  on  the  previous  night; 
and  the  spectacles  had  no  sooner  crossed  Mr.  Pickwick's 
nose,  lhan  the  lady  at  once  identified  the  countenance 
which  she  had  seen  surrounded  by  all  the  horrors  of  a 
night-cap.  So  the  lady  screamed,  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
started. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Magnus,  lost  in  aston- 
ishment. "What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  sir?  What  is 
the  meaning  of  it,  sir?"  added  Mr.  Magnus,  in  a  threat- 
ening and  a  louder  tone. 

"Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  somewhat  indignant  at  the 
very  sudden  manner  in  which  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  had 
conjugated  himself  into  the  imperative  mood,  "  I  decliuQ 
answering  that  question." 


338  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

You  decline  it,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 
''I  do,  sir,"  replied  iJr.  Pickwick;  ''I  object  to  saying 
anything  which  may  compromise  that  lady,  or  awaken 
unpleasant  recollections  in*her  breast,  without  her  con- 
sent and  permission." 

Miss  Witherfield,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  *'do  you 
know  this  person  ? " 

^'Know  him!"  repeated  the  middle-aged  lady,  hesi- 
tating. 

Yes,  know  him,  ma'am.  I  said  know  him,"  replied 
Mr.  Magnus,  with  ferocity. 

"  I  have  seen  him,"  replied  the  middle-aged  lady. 

Where?"  inquired  Mr.  Magnus,  where?" 
^^That,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady,  rising  from  her 
seat,  and  averting  her  head,  ''that  I  would  not  reveal 
for  worlds." 

''I  understand  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^'and 
respect  your  delicacy;  it  shall  never  be  revealed  by  me, 
depend  upon  it." 

"  Upon  my  word,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Magnus, consider- 
ing the  situation  in  which  I  am  placed,  with  regard 
to  yourself,  you  carry  this  matter  off  with  tolerable 
coolness — tolerable  coolness,  ma'am." 

''Cruel  Mr.  Magnus  !"  said  the  middle-aged  lady;  here 
she  wept  very  copiously  indeed. 

"Address  your  observations  to  me,  sir,"  interposed  Mr. 
Pickwick;  "  I  alone  ani  to  blame,  if  anybody  be." 

"  Oh  !  you  alone  are  to  blame,  are  you,  sir  ?"  said  Mr. 
Magnus;  I — I  see  through  this,  sir."  You  repent  of  your 
determination  now,  do  you?" 

"My  determination  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Your  determination,  sir.  Oh!  don't  stare  at. me, 
sir,"  said  Mr  Magnus;  "  I  recollect  your  words  last  night, 
sir.  You  came  down  here,  sir,  to  expose  the  treachery 
and  falsehood  of  an  individual  on  whose  truth  and 
honour  you  had  placed  implicit  reliance — eh?"  Here 
Mr.  Peter  Magnus  indulged  in  a  prolonged  sneer;  and 
taking  off  his  green  spectacles — which  he  probably  found 
superfluous  in  his  fit  of  jealousy — rolled  his  little  eyes 
about,  in  a  manner  which  was  frightful  to  behold. 

"Eh?"  said  Mr.  Magnus;  and  then  he  repeated  the 
sneer  with  increased  effect.  "But  you  shall  answer  it, 
3ir." 

"  Answer  what  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


339 


Never  mind,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  striding  up 
and  down  the  room.      Never  mind." 

There  must  be  something  very  comprehensive  in  this 
phrase  of  ''Never  mind,"  for  we  do  not  recollect  to  have 
ever  witnessed  a  quarrel  in  the  street,  at  a  theatre,  pub- 
lic room,  or  elsewhere,  in  which  it  has  not  been  the  stan- 
dard reply  to  all  belligerent  inquiries.  ''Do  you  call 
yourself  a  gentleman,  sir?" — "Never  mind  sir."  "Did 
I  offer  to  say  anything  to  the  young  woman,  sir  ? " — 
"  Never  mind,  sir."  "  Do  you  want  your  head  knocked 
up  against  that  wall,  sir  ?" — "Never  mind,  sir  ?"  It  is 
observable,  too,  that  there  would  appear  to  be  some 
hidden  taunt  in  this  universal  "Never  mind,"  which 
rouses  more  indignation  in  the  bosom  of  the  individual 
addressed,  than  the  most  lavish  abuse  could  possibly 
awaken. 

We  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  the  application  of  this 
brevity  to  himself,  struck  exactly  that  indignation  to 
Mr.  Pickwick's  soul,  which  it  would  infallibly  have 
roused  in  a  vulgar  breast.  We  merely  record  the  fact; 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  room  door,  and  abruptly 
called  out,  "Tupman,  come  here  !" 
Mr.  Tupman  immediately  presented  himself,  with  a 


"Tupman,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "a  secret  of  some  de- 
licacy, in  which  that  lady  is  concerned,  is  the  cause  of  a 
difference  which  has  just  arisen  between  this  gentle- 
man and  myself.  When  I  assure  him,  in  your  presence, 
that  it  has  no  relation  to  himself,  and  is  not  in  any  way 
connected  with  his  affairs,  I  need  hardly  beg  you  to 
take  notice  that  if  he  continues  to  dispute  it,  he  expresses 
a  doubt  of  my  veracity,  which  I  shall  consider  extremely 
insulting."  As  Mr.  Pickwick  said  this,  he  looked  ency- 
clopaedias at  Mr.  Peter  Magnus. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  upright  and  honourable  bearing, 
coupled  with  that  force  and  energy  of  speech  which  so 
eminently  distinguished  him,  would  have  carried  con- 
viction to  any  reasonable  mind;  but  unfortunately  at 
that  particular  moment  the  mind  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus 
was  m  anything  but  reasonable  order.  Consequently, 
instead  of  receiving  Mr.  Pickwick's  explanation  as  lie 
ought  to  have  done,  he  forthwith  proceeded  to  work  • 
himself  into  a  red-hot,  scorching,  consuming  passion, 
and  to  talk  about  what  waa  due  to  his  own  feelings,  and 


look  of  very  considerable 


340  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


all  that  sort  of  thing:  adding  force  to  his  declamation 
by  striding  to  and  fro,  and  pulling  his  hair — amuse- 
ments which  he  would  vary  occasionally  by  shaking 
his  fist  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  philanthropic  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  turn,  conscious  of  his  own  inno- 
cence and  rectitude,  and  irritated  by  having  unfor- 
tunately involved  the  middle-aged  lady  in  such  an  un- 
pleasant affair,  was  not  so  quietly  disposed  as  was  his 
wont.  The  consequence  was  that  words  ran  high,  and 
voices  higher;  and  at  length  Mr.  Magnus  told  Mr.  Pick- 
wick he  should  hear  from  him:  to  which  Mr.  Pickwick 
replied,  with  laudable  politeness,  that  the  sooner  he 
heard  from  him  the  better;  whereupon  the  middle-aged 
lady  rushed  in  terror  from  the  room,  out  of  which  Mr. 
Tupman  dragged  Mr.  Pickwick,  leaving  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus  to  himself  and  meditation. 

If  the  middle-aged  lady  had  mingled  much  with  the 
busy  world,  or  had  profited  at  all,  by  the  manners  and 
customs  of  those  who  make  the  laws  and  set  the  fash- 
ions, she  would  have  known  that  this  sort  of  ferocity  is 
the  most  harmless  thing  in  nature;  but  as  she  had  lived 
for  the  most  part  in  the  country,  and  never  read  the 
parliamentary  debates,  she  was  little  versed  in  these 
particular  refinements  of  civilized  life.  Accordingly, 
when  she  had  gained  her  bed-chamber,  bolted  herself 
in,  and  begun  to  meditate  on  the  scene  she  had  just  wit- 
nessed, the  most  terrific  pictures  of  slaughter  and  de- 
structio4  presented  themselves  to  her  imagination; 
among  which,  a  full-length  portrait  of  Mr.  Peter  Mag- 
nus borne  home  by  four  men,  with  the  embellishment 
of  a  whole  barrel-full  of  bullets  in  his  left  side,  was 
among  the  very  least.  The  more  the  middle-aged  lady 
meditated,  the  more  terrified  she  became;  and  at  length 
she  determined  to  repair  to  the  house  of  the  principal 
magistrate  of  the  town,  and  request  him  to  secure  the 
persons  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman,  without  delay. 

To  this  decision,  the  middle-aged  lady  was  inapelled 
by  a  variety  of  considerations,  the  chief  of  which  was 
the  incontestable  proof  it  would  afford  of  her  devotion  to 
Mr.  Magnus,  and  her  anxiety  for  his  safety.  She  was 
too  well  acquainted  with  his  jealous  temperament  to 
venture  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  real  cause  of  her  agi- 
'tation  on  beholding  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  she  trusted  to  her 
own  influence  a,nd  pow^r  p|  pprsuasion  with  tbe  littl^ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


341 


man  to  quell  his  boisterous  jealousy,  supposing  that  Mr. 
Pickwick  were  removed,  and  no  fresh  quarrel  could  arise. 
Filled  with  these  reflections,  the  middle-aged  lady  ar- 
rayed herself  in  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  repaired  to 
the  Mayor's  dweUing  straightway. 

Now  George  Nupkins,  Esquire,  the  principal  magis- 
trate aforesaid,  was  as  grand  a  personage  as  the  fastest 
walker  would  find  out,  between  sunrise  and  sunset,  on 
the  twenty-first  of  June,  which  being,  according  to  the 
almanacs,  the  longest  day  in  the  whole  year,  would 
naturally  afford  him  the  longest  period  for  his  search. 
On  this  particular  morning  Mr.  Nupkins  was  in  a  state 
of  the  utmost  excitement  and  irritation,  for  there  had 
been  a  rebellion  in  the  town;  all  the  day-scholars  at 
the  largest  day-school  had  conspired  to  break  the  win- 
dows of  an  obnoxious  apple-seller;  and  had  hooted  the 
beadle,  and  pelted  the  constabulary — an  elderly  gen- 
tleman in  top  boots,  who  had  been  called  out  to  repress 
the  tumult,  and  who  had  been  a  peace-officer,  man  and 
boy,  for  half  a  century  at  least.  And  Mr.  ISTupkins  was 
sitting  in  his  easy  chair,  frowning  with  majesty  and 
boiling  with  rage,  when  a  lady  was  announced  on  press- 
ing, private,  and  particular  business.  Mr.  Nupkins 
looked  calmly  terrible,  and  commanded  that  the  lady 
should  be  shown  in:  which  command,  like  all  mandates 
of  emperors,  and  magistrates,  and  other  great  potentates 
of  the  earth,  was  forthwith  obeyed;  and  Miss  Wither- 
field,  interestingly  agitated,  was  ushered  in  accordingly. 
Muzzle  ! "  said  the  magistrate. 

Muzzle  was  an  under-sized  footman,  with  a  long  body 
and  short  legs. 
Muzzle!" 

*'Yes,  your  worship." 

"  Place  a  chair  and  leave  the  room." 

' '  Yes,,  your  worship. " 

*'Now,  ma'am,  will  you  state  j^our  business?"  said 
the  magistrate. 

It  is  of  a  very  painful  kind,  sir,"  said  Miss  Witherfleld. 
*'Very  likely,  ma'am,"  said  the  magistrate.  ''Com- 

Eose  your  feelings,  ma'am."    Here  Mr.  Nupkins  looked 
enignant.      And  then  tell  me  what  legal  business 
brings  'you  here,  ma'am."    Here  the  magistrate  tri- 
umphed over  the  man;  and  he  looked  stern  again. 
*'It  is  very  diBtreesing  to  me,  sir,  to  give  this  ixafo|*- 


342  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

mation,"  said  Miss  Witherfield,  '^but  I  fear  a  duel  is 
going  to  be  fought  here." 

''Here,  ma'am?"  said  the  magistrate.  ''Where, 
ma'am  ?" 

"  In  Ipswich." 

"In  Ipswich,  ma'am — a  duel  in  Ipswich!"  said  the 
magistrate,  perfectly  aghast  at  the  notion.  "Impos- 
sible, ma'am;  nothing  of  the  kind  can  be  contemplated 
in  this  town,  I  am  persuaded.  Bless  my  soul,  ma'am, 
are  you  aware  of  the  activity  of  our  local  magistracy  ? 
Do  you  happen  to  have  heard,  ma'am,  that  I  rushed  into 
a  prize-ring  on  the  fourth  of  May  last,  attended  by  only 
sixty  special  constables;  and  at  the  hazard  of  falling  a 
sacrifice  to  the  angry  passions  of  an  infuriated  multi- 
tude, prohibited  a  pugilistic  contest  between  the  Mid- 
dlesex Dumpling  and  the  Suffolk  Bantam  ?  A  duel  in 
Ipswich,  ma'am  !  I  don't  think — I  do  not  think,"  said 
the  magistrate,  reasoning  with  himself,  "that any  two 
men  can  have  had  the  hardihood  to  plan  such  a  breach 
of  the  peace,  in  this  town." 

"  My  information  is  unfortunately  but  too  correct," 
said  the  middle-aged  lady;  "I  was  present  at  the  quarrel." 

"  It's  a  most  extraordinary  thing,"  said  the  astounded 
magistrate.    "  Muzzle  ! " 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

"  Send  Mr.  Jinks  here  directly — instantly."  v 
"  Yes,  your  worship." 

Muzzle  retired;  and  a  pale,  sharp-nosed,  half -fed, 
shabbily-clad  clerk,  of  middle  age,  entered  the  room. 
"  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate.    "  Mr.  Jinks  !  " 
"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Jinks. 

"  This  lady,  Mr.  Jinks,  has  come  here  to  give  informa- 
tion of  an  intended  duel  in  this  town." 

Mr.  Jinks,  not  exactly  knowing  what  to  do,  smiled  a 
dependent's  smile. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at,  Mr.  Jinks?"  said  the 
magistrate. 

Mr.  Jinks  looked  serious  instantly. 

"  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  "you're  a  fool." 

Mr.  Jinks  looked  humbly  at  the  great  man,  and  bit  the 
top  of  his  pen. 

"  You  may  see  something  very  comical  in  this  infor- 
mation, sir  ;  but  I  can  tell  you  this,  Mr.  Jinks,  that  you 
have  very  little  to  laugh  at/'  said  the  magistrate. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  343 

The  hungry-looking.Jinks  sighed,  as  if  he  were  quite 
aware  of  the  fact  of  his  having  very  little  indeed  to  be 
merry  about,  and,  being  ordered  to  take  the  lady's 
information,  shambled  to  a  seat,  and  proceeded  to  write 
it  down, 

^*This  man,  Pickwick,  is  the  principal,  I  understand,'' 
said  the  magistrate  when  the  statement  was  finished. 
''  He  is,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady. 
"  And  the  other  rioter — what's  his  name,  Mr.  Jinks  ?" 

Tupman,  sir." 
"  Tupman  is  the  second  ?  " 
''Yes." 

"  The  other  principal,  you  say,  has  absconded,  ma'am?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Miss  Witherfield,  with  a  short  cough. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  magistrate.  "These  are  two 
cutthroats  from  London,  who  have  come  down  here  to 
destroy  his  Majesty's  population,  thinking  that  at  this 
distance  from  the  capital  the  arm  of  the  law  is  weak  and 
paralyzed.  They  shall  be  made  an  example  of.  Draw 
up  the  warrants,  Mr.  Jinks.  Muzzle." 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

"  Is  Grummer  down  stairs  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

"Send  him  up." 

The  obsequious  Muzzle  retired,  and  presently  returned, 
introducing  the  elderly  gentleman  in  the  top-Doots,  who 
was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  bottle-nose,  a  hoarse 
voice,  a  snufl^-coloured  surtout,  and  a  wandering  eye. 

"  Grummer,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Your  wash-up." 

"  Is  the  town  quiet  now  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  your  wash-up,"  replied  Grummer. 
"Pop'lar  feeling  has  in  a  measure  subsided,  con- 
sekens  o'  the  boys  having  dispersed  to  cricket." 

"  Nothing  but  vigorous  measures  will  do  in  these  times, 
Grummer,"  said  the  magistrate,  in  a  determined  manner. 
"  If  the  authority  of  the  king's  officers  is  set  at  nought, 
we  must  have  the  Riot  Act  read.  If  the  civil  power 
cannot  protect  these  windows,  Grummer,  the  military 
must  protect  the  civil  power,  and  the  windows  too.  I 
believe  that  is  a  maxim  of  the  constitution,  Mr.  Jinks  ?" 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  Jinks. 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  magistrate,  signing  the  war- 
rants.   "  Grummer,  you  will  brings  these  persons  before 


SU  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


me  this  afternoon.  You  will  find  them  at  the  Great 
White  Horse.  You  recollect  the  case  of  the  Middlesex 
Dumpling  and  the  Suffolk  Bantam,  Grummer  ? " 

Mr.  Grummer  intimated,  by  a  retrospective  shake  of 
the  head,  that  he  should  never  forget  it — as  indeed  it 
was  not  likely  he  would,  so  long  as  it  continued  to  be 
cited  daily. 

^^This  is  even  more  unconstitutional,"  said  the  magis- 
trate; 'Hhis  is  even  a  greater  breach  of  the  peace,  and 
a  grosser  infringement  of  his  Majesty's  prerogative.  I 
believe  duelling  is  one  of  his  Majesty's  most  undoubted 
prerogatives,  Mr.  Jinks?" 

^^Expressly  stipulated  in  Magna  Charta,  sir/'  said  Mr. 
Jinks. 

One  of  the  brightest  jewels  in  the  British  crown, 
wrung  from  his  Majesty  by  the  Barons,  I  believe,  Mr. 
Jinks?"  said  the  magistrate. 

''Just  so,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Jinks. 

''Very  well,"  said  the  magistrate,  drawing  himself  up 
proudly,  "it  shall  not  be  violated  in  this  portion  of  his 
dominions.  Grummer,  procure  assistance,  and  execute 
these  warrants  with  as  little  delay  as  possible.    Muzzle  I" 

"Yes,  your  worship." 

"Show  the  lady  out." 

Miss  Witherfield  retired,  deeply  impressed  with  the 
magistrate's  learning  and  research;  Mr.  ISTupkins  retired 
to  lunch;  Mr.  Jinks  retired  within  himself — that  being 
the  only  retirement  he  had,  except  the  sofa-bedstead  in 
the  small  parlour  which  was  occupied  by  his  landlady's 
family  in  the  day-time — and  Mr.  Grummer  retired,  to 
wipe  out,  by  his  mode  of  discharging  his  present  com- 
mission, the  insult  which  had  been  fastened  upon  him- 
self, and  the  other  representative  of  his  Majesty — the 
beadle — in  the  course  of  the  morning. 

While  these  resolute  and  determined  preparations  for 
the  conservation  of  the  King's  peace  were  pending,  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends,  wholly  unconscious  of  the 
mighty  events  in  progress,  had  sat  quietlj^  down  to  din-  * 
ner;  and  very  talkative  and  companionable  they  all 
were.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  in  the  very  act  of  relating  his 
adventure  of  the  preceding  night,  to  the  great  amuse- 
ment of  his  followers  :  Mr.  Tupman  especially :  when 
the  door  opened,  and  a  somewhat  forbidding  countenance 
peeped  into  the  room.    The  eyes  in  the  forbidding  coun- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


345 


tenance  looked  very  earnestly  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  for 
several  seconds,  and  were  to  all  appearance  satisfied 
with  their  investigation;  for  the  body  to  which  the  for- 
bidding countenance  belonged  slowly  brought  itself 
into  the  apartment,  and  presented  the  form  of  an  elderly 
individual  in  top-boots — not  to  keep  the  reader  any 
longer  in  suspense,  in  short,  the  eyes  were  the  wander- 
ing eyes  of  Mr.  Grummer,  and  the  body  Vv^as  the  body 
of  the  same  gentleman. 

Mr.  Grummer's  mode  of  proceeding  was  professional, 
but  peculiar.  His  first  act  was  to  bolt  the  door  on  the 
inside;  his  second,  to  polish  his  head  and  countenanc-e 
very  carefully  with  a  cotton  handkerchief;  his  third, 
to  place  his  hat.  with  the  cotton  handkerchief  in  it,  on 
the  nearest  chair;  and  his  fourth  to  produce  from  the 
breast-pocket  of  his  coat  a  short  truncheon  surmounted 
by  a  brazen  crown,  with  which  he  beckoned  to  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  a  grave  and  ghost-like  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  was  the  first  to  break  the  astonished 
silence.  He  looked  steadily  at  Mr.  Grummer  for  a  brief 
space,  and  then  said,  emphatically,  ''This  is  a  private 
room,  sir — a  private  room." 

Mr.  Grummer  shook  his  head,  and  replied,  ''No 
room's  private  to  his  Majesty  when  the  street  doors 
once  passed.  That's  law.  Some  people  maintain 
that  an  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle.  That's 
gammon." 

The  Pickwickians  gazed  on  each  other  with  wonder- 
ing eyes. 

"  Which  is  Mr.  Tupman?"  inquired  Mr.  Grummer.  He 
had  an  intuitive  perception  of  Mr.  Pickwick;  he  knew 
him  at  once. 

"  My  name's  Tupman,"  said  that  gentleman. 

"My  name's  Law,"  said  Mr.  Grummer. 

"What?"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Law,"  replied  Mr.  Grummer,  "  law,  civil  power,  and 
exekative;  them's  my  titles;  here's  my  authority.  Blank 
Tupman,  blank  Pickvick — against  the  peace  of  our  suf- 
ferm  Lord,  the  King — stattit  in  that  case  made  and  pur- 
wided — and  all  regular.  I  apprehend  you,  Pickvick! 
Tupman — the  aforesaid." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this  insolence?"  said  Mr. 
Tupman,  starting  up.  "Leave  the  room!" 

"  Halloo,"  said  Mr.  Grummer,  retreating  very  expe- 


346  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ditiously  to  the  door,  and  opening  it  an  inch  or  two, 
^'Dubbley." 

Well,"  said  a  deep  voice  from  the  passage. 

^^Come  for'ard,  Dubbley/'  said  Mr.  Grummer. 

At  the  word  of  command,  a  dirty -faced  man,  some- 
thing over  six  feet  high,  and  stout  in  proportion, squeezed 
himself  through  the  half -open  door:  making  his 
face  very  red  in  the  process:  and  entered  the  room. 

Is  the  other  specials  outside,  Dubbley?"  inquired  Mr. 
Grummer. 

Mr.  Dubbley,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words,  nodded 
assent. 

Order  in  the  diwision  under  your  charge,  Dubbley," 
said  Mr.  Grummer. 

Mr.  Dubbley  did  as  he  was  desired;  and  half-a-dozen 
men,  each  with  a  short  truncheon  and  a  brass  crown, 
flocked  into  the  room.  Mr.  Grummer  pocketed  his 
staff,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Dubbley;  Mr.  Dubbley  pocketed 
his  staff,  and  looked  at  the  division;  and  the  division 
pocketed  their  staves,  and  looked  at  Messrs.  Tupman 
and  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  followers  rose  as  one  man. 

''What  is  the  meaning  of  this  atrocious  intrusion 
upon  my  privacy?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Who  dares  apprehend  me?"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"What  do  you  want  here,  scoundrels?"  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Winkle  said  nothing,  but  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Grummer,  and  bestowed  a  look  upon  him  which,  if  he 
had  had  any  feeling,  must  have  pierced  his  brain.  As 
it  was,  however,  it  had  no  visible  effect  upon  him  what- 
ever. 

When  the  executive  saw  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends  were  disposed  to  resist  the  authority  of  the  law, 
they  very  significantly  turned  up  their  coat  sleeves,  as 
if  knocking  them  down  in  the  first  instance,  and  taking 
them  up  afterwards,  were  a  mere  professional  act  which 
had  only  to  be  thought  of,  to  be  done,  as  a  matter  of 
course.  This  demonstration  was  not  lost  upon  Mr. 
Pickwick.  He  conferred  a  few  moments  with  Mr.  Tup- 
man apart,  and  then  signified  his  readiness  to  proceed 
to  the  Mayor's  residence:  merely  begging  the  parties 
then  and  there  assembled  to  take  notice  that  it  was  his 
firm  intention  to  resent  thi§  mpnstrous  invasion  of  his 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB, 


34? 


privileges  as  an  Englishman,  the  instant  he  was  at  lib- 
erty; whereat  the  parties  then  and  there  assembled 
laughed  very  heartily,  with  the  single  exception  of  Mr. 
Grummer,  who  seemed  to  consider  that  ^ny  slight  cast 
upon  the  divine  right  of  magistrates  was  a  species  of 
blasphemy  not  to  be  tolerated. 

But  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  signified  his  readiness  to 
bow  to  the  laws  of  the  country,  and  just  when  the 
waiters,  and  hostlers,  and  chambermaids,  and  post- 
boys, who  had  anticipated  a  delightful  commotion  from 
his  threatened  obstinacy,  began  to  turn  away,  disap- 
pointed and  disgusted,  a  difficulty  arose  which  had  not 
been  foreseen.  With  every  sentiment  of  veneration  for 
the  constituted  authorities,  Mr.  Pickwick  resolutely  pro- 
tested against  making  his  appearance  in  the  public 
streets,  surrounded  and  guarded  by  the  officers  of  justice, 
like  a  common  criminal.  Mr.  Grummer,  in  the  then 
disturbed  state  of  public  feeling  (for  it  was  half -holiday, 
and  the  boys  had  not  yet  gone  home)  as  resolutely  pro- 
tested against  walking  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way, 
and  taking  Mr.  Pickwick's  parole  that  he  would  go 
straight  to  the  magistrate's;  and  both  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Tupman  as  strenuously  objected  to  the  expense  of  a 
post-coach,  which  was  the  only  respectable  conveyance 
that  could  be  obtained.  The  dispute  ran  high,  and  the 
dilemma  lasted  long;  and  just  as  the  executive  were  on 
the  point  of  overcoming  Mr.  Pickwick's  objection  to 
walking  to  the  magistrate's  by  the  trite  expedient  of 
carrying  him  thither,  it  was  recollected  that  there  stood 
in  the  inn  yard  an  old  sedan  chair,  which,  having  been 
originally  built  for  a  gouty  gentleman  with  funded 
property,  would  hold  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman,  at 
least  as  conveniently  as  a  modern  post-chaise.  The 
chair  was  hired,  and  brought  into  the  hall;  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Mr.  Tupman  squeezed  themselves  inside,  and 
pulled  down  the  blinds;  a  couple  of  chairmen  were 
speedily  found;  and  the  procession  started  in  grand 
order.  The  specials  surrounded  the  body  of  the  vehicle; 
Mr.  Grummer  and  Mr.  Dubbley  marched  triumphantly 
in  front;  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  walked  arm- 
in-arm  behind;  and  the  unsoapedof  Ipswich  brought  up 
the  rear. 

The  shopkeepers  of  the  town,  although  they  had  a 
very  indistinct  notion  of  the  nature  of  the  oflfenoe,  could 


348  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

not  but  be  much  edified  and  gratified  by  this  spectacle. 
Here  was  the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  coming  down  with 
twenty  gold-beater  force  upon  two  offenders  from  the 
metropolis  itself;  the  mighty  engine  was  directed  by 
their  own  magistrate,  and  worked  by  their  own  officers; 
and  both  the  criminals,  by  their  united  efforts,  were 
securely  shut  up  in  the  narrow  compass  of  one  sedan- 
chair.  Many  were  the  expressions  of  approval  and  ad- 
miration which  greeted  Mr.  Grummer,  as  he  headed  the 
cavalcade,  staff  in  hand;  loud  and  long  were  the  shouts 
which  were  raised  by  the  un soaped;  and,  amidst  these 
united  testimonials  of  public  approbation,  the  procession 
moved  slowly  and  majestically  along. 

Mr.  Weller,  habited  in  his  morning  jacket  with  the 
black  calico  sleeves,  was  returning,  in  a  rather  de- 
spondent state,  from  an  unsuccessful  survey  of  the 
mysterious  house  with  the  green  gate,  when,  raising  his 
eyes,  he  beheld  a  crowd  pouring  down  the  street,  sur- 
rounding an  object  which  had  very  much  the  appear- 
ance of  a  sedan-chair.  Willing  to  divert  his  thoughts 
from  the  failure  of  his  enterprise,  he  stepped  aside  to  see 
the  crowd  pass;  and  finding  that  they  were  cheering 
.away,  very  much  to  their  own  satisfaction,  forthwith 
began  (by  way  of  raising  his  spirits)  to  cheer  too,  with 
all  his  might  and  main. 

Mr.  Grummer  passed,  and  Mr.  Dubbley  passed,  and 
the  sedan  passed,  and  the  body-guard  of  specials 
passed,  and  Sam  was  still  responding  to  the  enthu- 
siastic cheers  of  the  mob,  and  waving  his  hat  about 
as  if  he  were  in  the  very  last  extreme  of  the  wildest 
joy  (though,  of  course,  he  had  not  the  faintest  idea 
of  the  matter  in  hand),  when  he  was  suddenly  stopped 
by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  Mr.  Winkle"  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

What's  the  row,  genl'm'n?"  cried  Sam.  "  Who  have 
they  got  in  this  here  watch-box  in  mournin'?" 

Both  gentlemen  replied  together,  but  their  words  were 
lost  in  the  tumult. 

Who  ?  "  cried  Sam  again. 
Once  more  was  the  joint  reply  returned  ;  and  though 
the  words  were  inaudible,  Sam  saw  by  the  motion  of  the 
two  pairs  of  lips  that  they  had  uttered  the  magic  word 
'^Pickwick.'' 

This  was  enough.    In  another  minute  Mr.  Weller  had 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


349 


made  liis  way  through  the  crowd,  stopped  the  chairman, 
and  confronted  the  portly  Grummer. 

''Hallo,  old  genl'm'n  !"  said  Sam.  ''Who  have  you 
got  in  this  here  conwayance  ?  " 

"  Stand  back,"  said  Mr.  Grummer,  whose  dignity,  like 
the  dignity  of  a  great  many  other  men,  had  been  won- 
drously  augmented  by  a  little  popularity. 

"  Knock  him  down,  if  he  don't,"  said  Mr.  Dubbley. 

"I'm  worry  much  obliged  to  you,  old  genl'm'n,"  re- 
plied Sam,  ''for  consulting  my  conwenience,  and  I'm 
still  more  obliged  to  the  other  genl'm'n,  who  looks  as  if 
he'd  just  escaped  from  a  giant's  carry  wan,  for  his  werry 
'ansome  suggestion  ;  but  I  should  prefer  your  givin'  me 
a  answer  to  my  question,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you. 
How  are  you,  sir  ?"  This  last  observation  was  addressed 
with  a  patronizing  air  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  peep- 
ing through  the  front  window. 

Mr.  Grummer,  perfectly  speechless  with  indignation, 
dragged  the  truncheon,  with  the  brass  crown,  from  its 
particular  pocket,  and  flourished  it  before  Sam's  eyes. 

"Ah,"  said  Sam,  "it's  werry  pretty,  'specially  the 
crown,  which  is  uncommon  like  the  real  one." 

"Stand  back  ! "  said  the  outraged  Mr.  Grummer.  By 
way  of  adding  force  to  the  command,  he  thrust  the  brass 
emblem  of  royalty  into  Sam's  neckcloth  with  one  hand, 
and  seized  Sam's  collar  with  the  other  :  a  compliment 
which  Mr.  Weller  returned  by  knocking  him  down  out 
of  hand:  having  previously,  with  the  utmost  considera- 
tion, knocked  down  a  chairman  for  him  to  lie  upon. 

Whether  Mr.  Winkle  was  seized  with  a  temporary  at- 
tack of  that  species  of  insanity  which  originates  in  a 
sense  of  injury,  or  animated  by  this  display  of  Mr.  Wel- 
ler's  valour,  is  uncertain  ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  he  no 
sooner  saw  Mr.  Grummer  fall,  than  he  made  a  terrific 
onslaught  on  a  small  boy  who  stood  next  him  ;  where- 
upon Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  a  truly  christian  spirit,  and  in 
order  that  he  might  take  no  one  unawares,  announced 
in  a  very  loud  tone  that  he  was  going  to  begin,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  take  off  his  coat  with  the  utmost  deliberation. 
He  was  immediately  surrounded  and  secured  ;  and  it  is 
but  common  justice  both  to  him  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  say, 
that  they  did  not  make  the  slightest  attempt  to  rescue 
either  themselves  or  Mr.  Weller:  who,  after  a  most  vig- 
ourous  resistance,  was  overpowered  by  numbers,  and 


350  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

taken  prisoner,     The  procession  then  reformed  ;  the 
chairmen  resumed  their  stations  ;  and  the  march  was 
recommenced. 
Mr.  Pickwick's  indignation,  during  the  whole  of  this 

Eroceeding,  was  beyond  all  bounds.  He  could  just  see 
am  upsetting  the  specials,  and  flying  about,  in  every 
direction;  and  that  was  all  he  could  see,  for  the  sedan 
doors  wouldn't  open,  and  the  blinds  wouldn't  pull  up. 
At  length,  with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Tupman,  he  man- 
aged to  push  open  the  roof  ;  and  mounting  on  the  seat^ 
and  steadying  himself  as  well  as  he  could,  by  placing 
his  hand  on  that  gentleman's  shoulder,  Mr.  Pickwick 
proceeded  to  address  the  multitude;  to  dwell  upon  the 
unjustifiable  manner  in  which  he  had  been  treated;  and 
to  call  upon  them  to  take  notice  that  his  servant  had 
been  first  assaulted.  In  this  order  they  reached  the 
magistrate's  house;  the  chairmen  trotting,  the  prisoners 
following,  Mr.  Pickwick  oratorizing,  and  the  crowd 
shouting. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SHOWING,  AMONG  A  VARIETY  OF  PLEASANT  MATTERS,  HOW 
MAJESTIC  AND  IMPARTIAL  MR.  NUPRINS  WAS;  AND  HOW 
MR.  WELLER  RETURNED  MR.  JOB  TROTTER'S  SHUTTLE- 
COCK AS  HEAVILY  AS  IT  CAME.  WITH  ANOTHER  MAT- 
TER, WHICH  WILL  BE  FOUND  IN  ITS  PLACE. 

Violent  was  Mr.  Weller's  indignation  as  he  was  borne 
along;  numerous  were  the  allusions  to  the  personal  ap- 
pearance and  demeanour  of  Mr.  Grummer  and  his  com- 
panion: and  valourousw  ere  the  defiances  to  any  six  of 
the  gentlemen  present:  in  which  he  vented  his  dissatis- 
faction. Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  listened  with 
gloomy  respect  to  the  torrent  of  eloquence  which  their 
leader  poured  forth,  from  the  sedan  chair,  and  the  rapid 
course  of  which,  not  all  Mr.  Tupman's  earnest  entreat- 
ies to  have  the  the  lid  of  the  vehicle  closed,  were  able 
to  check  for  an  instant.  But  Mr.  Weller's  anger  quickly 
gave  way  to  curiosity,  when  the  procession  turned  down 
the  identical  court-yard  in  which  he  had  met  with  the 
runaway  Job  Trotter:  and  curiosity  was  exchanged  for 
a  feeling  of  the  most  gleeful  astonishment,  when  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


851 


all-important  Mr.  Grummer,  commanding  the  sedan- 
bearers  to  halt,  advanced  with  dignified  and  portentous 
steps,  to  the  very  green  gate  from  which  Job  Trotter 
had  emerged,  and  gave  a  mighty  pull  at  the  bell-handle 
vvrhich  hung  at  the  side  thereof.  The  ring  was  answered 
by  a  very  smart  and  pretty-faced  servant-girl,  who,  after 
holding  up  her  hands  in  astonisment  at  the  rebellious 
appearance  of  the  prisoners,  and  the  impassioned  lan- 
gaa.ge  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  summoned  Mr.  Muzzle.  Mr. 
Muzzle  opened  one-half  of  the  carriage  gate,  to  admit 
%  the  sedan,  the  captured  ones,  and  the  specials;  and  im- 
mediately slammed  it  in  the  faces  of  the  mob,  who,  in- 
dignant at  being  excluded,  and  anxious  to  see  what 
followed,  relieved  their  feelings  by  kicking  at  the  gate 
and  ringing  the  bell,  for  an  hour  or  two  afterwards.  In 
this  amusement  they  all  took  part  by  turns,  except  three 
or  four  fortunate  individuals,  who,  having  discovered  a 
grating  in  the  gate  which  commanded  a  view  of  noth- 
ing, stared  through  it  with  the  indefatigable  persever- 
ance with  which  people  Avill  flatten  their  noses  against 
the  front  windows  of  a  chemist's  shop,  when  a  drunken 
man,  who  has  been  run  over  by  a  dog-cart  in  the 
street,  is  undergoing  a  surgical  inspection  in  the  back- 
parlour. 

At  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps,  leading  to  the  house 
door,  which  was  guardeTd  on  either  side  by  an  American 
aloe  in  a  green  tub,  the  sedan-chair  stopped.  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends  were  conducted  into  the  hall, 
whence,  having  been  previously  announced  by  Muzzle, 
and  ordered  in  by  Mr.  Nupkins,  they  were  ushered 
into  the  worshipful  presence  of  that  public-spirited 
officer. 

The  scene  was  an  impressive  one,  well  calculated  to 
strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of  culprits,  and  to  impress 
them  with  an  adequate  idea  of  the  stern  majesty  of  the 
law.  In  front  of  a  big  book  case,  in  a  big  chair,  behind 
a  big  table,  and  before  a  big  volume,  sat  Mr.  Nupkins, 


they  were.  The  table  was  adorned  with  piles  of  papers: 
and  above  the  further  end  of  it  appeared  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  Mr.  Jinks,  wlio  was  busily  engag(id  in  look- 
ing as  busy  as  possible.  The  party  having  all  entered. 
Muzzle  carefully  closed  the  door,  and  placed  liiiuself 
behind  his  master's  chair  to  await  his  orders.    Mr.  Nup- 


looking  a  full  size  larger  than 


352  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


kins  threw  himself  back,  with  thrilling  solemnity,  and 
and  scrutinized  the  faces  of  his  unwilling  visitors. 

''NoAv,  Grummer,  who  is  that  person?"  said  Mr.  Nup- 
kins,  pointing  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who,  as  the  spokesman 
of  his  friends,  stood  hat  in  hand,  bowing  with  the  ut- 
most politeness  and  respect. 

''This  here's  Pickvick,  your  wash-up,''  said  Grummer. 

*'Come,  none  o'  that  'ere,  old  Strike-a-light,"  inter- 
posed Mr.  Weller,  elbowing  himself  into  the  front  rank. 
"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  this  here  officer  o'  yourn  in 
the  gambooge  tops,  'ull  never  earn  a  decent  livin'  as  a 
master  o'  the  ceremonies  anyvere.  This  here  sir,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Weller,  thrusting  Grummer  aside,  and  ad- 
dressing the  magistrate  with  pleasant  familiarity,  ''this 
here  is  S.  Pickvick,  Esquire;  this  here's  Mr.  Tupman; 
that  'ore's  Mr.  Snodgrass;  and  f urder  on,  next  him  on 
the  'tother  side,  Mr.  Winkle — all  worry  nice  gen'l'men, 
sir,  as  you'll  be  worry  happy  to  have  the  acquaintance 
on;  so  the  sooner  you  commits  these  here  officers  o' 
yourn  to  the  tread-mill  for  a  month  or  two,  the  sooner 
we  shall  begin  to  be  on  a  pleasant  understanding.  Busi- 
ness first,  pleasure  arterwards,  as  King  Pichard  the 
Third  said  when  he  stabbed  t'other  king  in  the  Tower, 
afore  he  smothered  the  babbies." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  address  Mr.  Weller  brushed 
his  hat  with  his  right  elbow,  and  nodded  benignly  to 
Jinks,  who  had  heard  him  throughout  with  unspeakable 
awe. 

"Who  is  this  man,  Grummer?"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Worry  desp'rate  ch'racter,  your  wash-up,"  replied 
Grummer.  "  He  attempted  to  rescue  the  prisoners,  and 
assaulted  the  officers;  so  we  took  him  into  custody  and 
brought  him  here." 

"You  did  quite  right,"  replied  the  magistrate.  "He 
is  evidently  a  desperate  ruffian."  ^ 

"He  is  my  servant,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  angrily. 

"  Oh!  he  is  your  servant,  is  he?"  said  Mr.  Nupkins.  "A 
conspiracy  to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice  and  murder  its 
officers.  Pickwick's  servant.  Put  that  down,  Mr. 
Jinks." 

Mr.  Jinks  did  so. 

"  What's  your  name,  fellow,"  thundered  Mr.  Nup- 
kins. 

"  Veller,"  replied  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  353 

A  Tery  good  name  for  the  Newgate  Calendar/'  said 
Mr.  Nupkins. 

This  was  a  joke;  so  Jinks,  Grummer,  Dubbley,  all  the 
specials,  and  Muzzle,  went  into  fits  of  laughter  of  five 
minutes'  duration. 

Put  down  his  name,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Two  L's,  old  feller,"  said  Sam. 

Here  an  unfortunate  special  laughed  again,  whereupon 
the  magistrate  threatened  to  commit  him  instantly.    It  is 
•  a  dangerous  thing  to  laugh  at  the  wrong  man  in  these 
cases. 

Where  do  you  live?"  said  the  magistrate. 
Vareever  I  can,"  replied  Sam. 
"  Put  down  that,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  who 
was  fast  rising  into  a  rage. 
Score  it  under,"  said  Sam. 
^'He  is  a  vagabond,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate. 
He  is  a  vagabond  on  his  own  statement;  is  he  not,  Mr. 
Jinks?" 

Certainly,  sir." 
''Then  I'll  commit  him.    I'll  commit  him  as  such," 
said  Mr.  Nupkins. 

''This  is  a  werry  impartial  country  for  justice," 
said  Sam.  "There  ain't  a  magistrate  going  as  don't 
commit  himself  twice  as  often  as  he  commits  other 
people." 

At  this  sally  another  special  laughed,  and  then  tried 
to  look  so  supernaturally  solemn  that  the  magistrate 
detected  him  immediately. 

"Grummer,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  reddening  with  pas- 
sion, "how  dare  you  select  such  an  inefficient  and  dis- 
reputable person  for  a  special  constable  as  that  man  ? 
How  dare  you  do  it,  sir?" 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  your  wash-up,"  stammered  Grum-  ^-^^ 
mer. 

"Very  sorry?"  said  the  furious  magistrate.  "You 
shall  repent  of  this  neglect  of  duty,  Mr.  Grummer;  you 
shall  be  made  an  exaipple  of.  Take  that  fellow's  staff 
away.    He's  drunk.    You're  drunk,  fellow." 

"  1  am  not  drunk,  your  worship,"  said  the  man. 

"  You"  are  drunk,"  returned  the  magistrate.  "  How 
dare  you  say  you  are  not  drunk,  sir,  when  I  say  you 
9,re?    Doesn't  he  smell  of  spirits,  Grummer?" 

"  Horrid,  your  wash-up,"  replied  Grummer,  who  had 


354  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


a  vague  impression  that  there  was  a  smell  of  rum  some- 
where. 

''I  knew  he  did,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins.  ^^I  saw  he  was 
drunk  when  he  first  came  into  the  room,  by  his  excited 
eye.    Did  you  observe  his  excited  eye,  Mr.  Jinks?" 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

''I  haven't  touched  a  drop  of  spirits  this  morning," 
said  the  man,  who  was  as  sober  a  fellow  as  need  be. 

^'How  dare  you  tell  me  a  falsehood?"  said  Mr.  Nup- 
kins.    "  Isn't  he  drunk  at  this  moment,  Mr.  Jinks?" 

^'Certainly,  sir,"  replied  Jinks. 

"Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  ''I  shall  commit 
that  man  for  contempt.  Make  out  his  committal,  Mr. 
Jinks." 

And  committed  the  special  would  have  been,  only 
Jinks,  who  was  the  magistrate's  adviser  (having  had  a 
legal  education  of  three  years  in  a  country  attorney's 
office),  whispered  the  magistrate  that  he  thought  it 
wouldn't  do;  so  the  magistrate  made  a  speech  and  said 
that,  in  consideration  of  the  special's  family,  he  would 
merely  reprimand  and  discharge  him.  Accordingly  the 
special  was  abused  vehemently  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
and  sent  about  his  business,  and  Grummer,  Dubbley, 
Muzzle  and  all  the  other  specials  murmured  their  admira- 
tion of  the  magnanimity  of  Mr.  Nupkins. 

''Now,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  "swear 
Grummer." 

Grummer  was  sworn  directly;  but  as  Grummer  wan- 
dered, and  Mr.  Nupkins'  dinner  was  nearly  ready,  Mr. 
Nupkins  cut  the  matter  short  by  putting  leading  ques- 
tions to  Grummer,  which  Grummer  answered  as  nearly 
in  the  affirmative  as  he  could.  So  the  examination  went 
off,  all  very  smooth  and  comfortable,  and  two  assaults 
were  proved  against  Mr.  Weller,  and  a  threat  against 
Mr.  Winkle,  and  a  push  against  Mr.  Snodgrass.  When 
p.11  this  was  done  to  the  magistrate's  satisfaction,  the 
magistrate  and  Mr.  Jinks  consulted  in  whispers. 

The  consultation  having  lasted  about  ten  minutes,  Mr. 
Jinks  retired  to  his  end  of  the  table;  and  the  magistrate, 
with  a  preparatory  cough,  drew  himself  up  in  his  chair, 
and  was  proceeding  to  commence  his  address,  when  Mr, 
Pickwick  interposed. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  interrupting  you,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick;  "  but  before  you  proceed  to  express  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


355 


act  upon  any  opinion  you  may  have  formed  on  the 
statements  which  have  been  made  here,  I  must  claim 
my  right  to  be  heard,  so  far  as  I  am  personally  con- 
cerned." 

''Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate  per- 
emptorily." 

I  must  submit  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  interposed  the  magistrate, 
"or  I  shall  order  an  officer  to  remove  you." 

'*You  may  order  your  officers  to  do  whatever  you 
please,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "and  I  have  no  doubt, 
from  the  specimen  I  have  had  of  the  subordination  pre- 
served among  them,  that  whatever  you  order,  they  will 
execute,  sir;  but  I  shall  take  the  liberty,  sir,  of  claim- 
ing my  right  to  be  heard,  until  I  am  removed  by 
force." 

"Pickvick  and  principle,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  in  a 
very  audible  voice. 

"  Sam,  be  quiet,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dum  as  a  drum  vith  a  hole  in  it,  sir,"  replied  Sani, 

Mr.  Nupkins  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  gaze  of  in- 
tense astonishment,  at  his  displaying  such  unwonted 
temerity;  and  was  apparently  about  to  return  a  very 
angry  reply,  when  Mr.  Jinks  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve, 
and  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  To  this  the  mag- 
istrate returned  a  half-audible  answer,  and  then  the 
w^hispering  was  renewed.  Jinks  was  evidently  remon- 
strating. 

At  length  the  magistrate,  gulping  down,  with  a  very 
bad  grace,  his  disinclination  to  hear  anything  more, 
turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  said  sharply,  "What  do 
you  want  to  say?" 

"First,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sending  a  look  through 
his  spectacles,  under  which  even  Nupkins  quailed. 
"  First,  I  wish  to  know  what  I  and  my  friend  have  been 
brouglit  here  for?" 

"  Must  I  tell  him?"  whispered  the  magistrate  to  Jinks. 

"  I  think  you  had  better,  sir,"  whispered  Jinks  to  the 
magistrate. 

'^An  information  has  been  sworn  before  me,"  said 
the  magistrate,  "that  it 4S  apprehended  you  are  going 
to  fight  a  duel,  and  that  the  other  man,  Tupman,  is 
your  aider  and  abettor  in  it.    Therefore — eh,  Mr.  Jinks  ? 

"  Certainly,  sir." 


356  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Therefore,  I  call  upon  you  both,  to — I  think  that's 
the  course,  Mr.  Jinks?" 
''Certainly,  sir/' 

''To— to— what,  Mr.  Jinks?"  said  the  magistrate,  pet- 
tishly. 

"To  find  bail,  sir." 

"Yes.  Therefore,  I -call  upon  you  both — as  I  was 
about  to  say  when  I  was  interrupted  by  my  clerk — to 
find  bail." 

"Good  bail,"  whispered  Mr.  Jinks. 

"I  shall  require  good  bail,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Town's-people,"  whispered  Mr.  Jinks. 

"  They  must  De  town's-people,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Fifty  pounds  each,"  whispered  Jinks,  "and  house- 
holders, of  course." 

"I  shall  require  two  sureties  of  fifty  pounds  each," 
said  the  magistrate  aloud,  with  great  dignity,  "and 
they  must  be  householders,  of  course." 

"  But,  bless  my  heart,  sir,  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who, 
together  with  Mr.  Tupman,  was  all  amazement  and  in- 
dignation; "we  are  perfect  strangers- in  this  town.  I 
have  as  little  knowledge  of  any  householders  here,  as  I 
have  intention  of  fighting  a  duel  with  anybody." 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  I  dare  say — 
don't  you,  Mr.  Jinks?" 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

"  Have  you  anything  more  to  say?" inquired  the  mag- 
istrate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  a  great  deal  more  to  say,  which  he 
would  no  doubt  have  said,  very  little  to  his  own  ad- 
vantage, or  the  magistrate's  satisfaction,  if  he  had  not, 
the  moment  he  ceased  speaking,  been  pulled  by  the 
sleeve  by  Mr.  Weller,  with  whom  he  was  immediately 
engaged  in  so  earnest  a  conversation,  that  he  suffered 
the  magistrate's  inquiry  to  pass  wholly  unnoticed.  Mr. 
Nupkins  was  not  the  man  to  ask  a  question  of  the  kind 
twice  over;  and  so,  with  another  preparatory  cough,  he 
proce^eded,  amid  the  reverential  and  admiring  silence  of 
the  constables,  to  pronounce  his  decision. 

He  should  fine  Weller  two  pounds  for  the  first  assault, 
and  three  pounds  for  the  second^.  He  should  fine  Winkle 
two  pounds,  and  Snodgrass  one  pound,  besides  requir- 
ing them  to  enter  into  their  own  recognizances  to  keep 
the  peace  towards  all  his  Majesty's  subjects,  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  357 

especially  towards  his  liege  servant,  Daniel  Grummer. 
Pickwick  and  Tupman  he  had  already  held  to  bail. 

Immediately  on  the  magistrate  ceasing  to  speak,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  a  smile  mantling  on  his  again-good- 
humoured  countenance,  stepped  forward,  and  said: 

"  I  beg  the  magistrate's  pardon,  but  may  I  request  a 
few  minutes'  private  conversation  with  him,,  on  a  matter 
of  deep  importance  to  himself?" 

''What!  "  said  the  magistrate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  repeated  his  request. 
This  is  a  most  extraordinary  request,"  said  the 
magistrate.      A  private  interview!  " 

''A  private  interview,'^  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly; 
''only,  as  a  part  of  the  information  which  I  wish  to 
communicate  is  derived  from  my  servant,  I  should  wish 
him  to  be  present." 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Jinks;  Mr.  Jinks  looked 
at  the  magistrate;  and  the  officers  looked  at  each  other 
in  amazement.  Mr.  Nupkins  turned  suddenly  pale. 
Could  the  man  Weller,  in  a  moment  of  remorse,  nave 
divulged  some  secret  conspiracy  for  his  assassination? 
It  was  a  dreadful  thought.  He  was  a  public  man;  and 
he  turned  paler,  as  he  thought  of  Julius  Caesar  and  Mr. 
Perceval. 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  again,  and 
beckoned  Mr.  Jinks. 

''What  do  you  think  of  this  request,  Mr.  Jinks?" 
murmured  Mr.  Nupkins. 

Mr.  Jinks,  who  didn't  exactly  know  what  to  think  of 
it,  and  was  afraid  he  might  offend,  smiled  feebly,  after 
a  dubious  fashion,  and,  screwing  up  the  corners  of  his 
mouth,  shook  his  head  slowly  from  side  to  side. 

"Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  gravely,  "you  are 
an  ass." 

At  this  little  expression  of  opinion,  Mr.  Jinks  smiled 
again — rather  more  feebly  than  before — and  edged  him- 
self, by  degrees,  back  into  his  own  corner. 

Mr.  Nupkins  debated  the  matter  within  himself  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then,  rising  from  his  chair,  and  request- 
ing Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  to  follow  him,  led  the  way 
into  a  small  room  which  opened  into  the  justice-parlour. 
Desiring  Mr.  Pickwick  to  walk  to  the  upper  end  of  the 
little  apartment,  and  holding  his  hand  upon  the  half- 
closed  door,  that  he  might  be  able  to  effect  an  immediate 


358  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

escape,  in  case  there  was  the  least  tendency  to  a  display 
of  hostilities,  Mr.  Nupkins  expressed  his  readiness  to 
hear  the  communication,  whatever  it  might  be. 

I  will  come  to  the  point  at  once,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; ''it  affects  yourself,  and  your  credit,  materially. 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  sir,  that  you  are  harbour- 
ing in  your  house  a  gross  impostor! " 

Two,"  interrupted  Sam.  Mulberry  agin  all  natur, 
for  tears  and  willainy." 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^^if  I  am  to  render  myself 
intelligible  to  this  gentleman,  I  must  beg  you  to  control 
your  feelings." 

^'Werry  sorry,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  ''but  when  I 
think  o'  that  ere  Job,  I  can't  help  opening  the  waive  a 
inch  or  two." 

"  In  one  word,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,.  "  is  my  servant 
right  in  suspecting  that  a  certain  Captain  Fitz-Marshall 
is  in  the  habit  of  visiting  here?  Because,"  added  Mr. 
Pickwick,  as  he  sav/  that  Mr.  Nupkins  was  about  to  offer 
a  very  indignant  interruption,  "because,  if  he  be,  I 
know  that  person  to  be  a — " 

"  Hush,  hush,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  closing  the  door. 
"Know  him  to  be  w^hat,  sir?" 

"  An  unprincipled  adventurer  —  a  dishonourable 
character — a  man  who  preys  upon  society,  and  makes 
easily-deceived  people  his  dupes,  sir;  his  absurd,  his 
foolish,  his  wretched  dupes,  sir,"  said  the  excited  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  turning  very  red,  and 
altering  his  whole  manner  directly.    "  Dear  me,  Mr. — " 
"  Pickvick,"  said  Sam. 

"Pickwick,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  dear  me,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick— pray  take  a  seat — you  cannot  mean  this?  Captain 
Fitz-Marshall?" 

"Don't  call  him  a  cap'en,"  said  Sam,  "nor  Fitz-Mar- 
shall neither;  he  ain't  neither  one  nor  t'other.  He's  a 
strolling  actor,  he  is,  and  his  name's  Jingle;  and  if  ever 
there  was  a  wolf  in  a  mulberry  suit,  that  'ere  Job  Trot- 
ter's him." 

"It  is  very  true,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  replying  to 
the  magistrate's  look  of  amazement;  "  my  only  business 
in  this  town  is  to  expose  the  person  of  whom  we  now 
speak." 

Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  pour  into  the  horror- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


359 


stricken  ear  of  Mr.  Nupkins  an  abridged  iccount  of  Mr. 
Jingle's  atrocities.  He  related  how  he  had  first  met  him; 
how  he  had  eloped  with  Miss  Wardle;  how  he  had  cheer- 
fully resigned  the  lady  for  a  pecuniary  consideration ; 
how  he  had  entrapped  him  into  a  lady's  boarding-school 
at  midnight;  and  how  he  (Mr.  Pickwick)  now  felt  it  his 
duty  to  expose  his  assumption  of  his  present  name  and 
rank. 

As  the  narrative  proceeded,  all  the  warm  blood  in  the 
body  of  Mr.  Nupkins  tingled  up  into  the  very  tips  of  his 
ears.  He  had  picked  up  the  captain  at  a  neighbouring 
race-course.  Charmed  with  his  long  list  of  aristocratic 
acquaintance,  his  extensive  travel,  and  his  fashionable 
demeanour,  Mrs.  Nupkins  and  Miss  Nupkins  had  ex- 
hibited Captain  Fitz-Marshall,  and  quoted  Captain  Fitz- 
Marshall,  and  hurled  Captain  Fitz-Marshall  at  the  de- 
voted heads  of  their  select  circle  of  acquaintance,  until 
their  bosom  friends,  Mrs.  Porkenham  and  the  Misses 
Porkenham,  and  Mr.  Sidney  Porkenham,  were  ready  to 
burst  with  jealousy  and  despair.  And  now,  to  hear, 
after  all,  that  he  was  a  needy  adventurer,  a  strolling 
player,  and,  if  not  a  swindler,  something  so  very  like  it 
that  it  was  hard  to  tell  the  difference!  Heavens!  what 
would  the  Porkenhams  say!  What  would  be  the  triumph 
of  Mr.  Sidney  Porkenham  when  he  found  that  his  ad- 
dresses had  been  slighted  for  such  a  rival!  How  should 
he,  Nupkins,  meet  the  eye  of  old  Porkenham  at  the  next 
Quarter  Sessions!  And  what  a  handle  would  it  be  for 
the  opposition  magisterial  party,  if  the  story  got  abroad! 

''But,  after  all,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  brightening  for  a 
moment,  after  a  long  pause;  ''after  all,  this  is  a  mere 
statement.  Captain  Fitz-Marshall  is  a  man  of  very  on- 
gaging  manners,  and,  I  dare  say,  has  many  enemies. 
What  proof  have  you  of  the  truth  of  these  representa- 
tions?" 

"  Confront  me  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  is 
all  I  ask,  and  all  I  require.  Confront  him  with  me,  and 
my  fri(*nds  here;  you  will  want  no  further  proof." 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  "  that  might  be  very  easily 
done,  for  he  will  be  here  to-night,  and  then  there  would 
be  no  occasion  to  make  the  matter  public,  just — just — for 
the  young  man's  own  sake,  you  know.  I — I — should 
like  to  consult  Mrs.  Nupkins  on  the  propriety  of  the  step, 
in  the  first  instance,  though.    At  all  events,  Mr.  Pick- 


3©0  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


wick,  we  must  despatch  this  legal  business  before  we  can 
do  anything  else.    Pray  step  back  into  the  next  room." 
Into  the  next  room  they  went. 

''Grummer/'  said  the  magistrate,  in  an  awful  voice. 
''Your  wash-up/'  replied  Grummer,  with  the  smile  of 
a  favourite. 

"  Come,  come,  sir,"  replied  the  magistrate,  sternly, 
"  don't  let  me  see  any  of  this  levity  here.  It  is  very  un- 
becoming, and  I  can  assure  you  that  you  have  very 
little  to  smile  at.  W as  the  account  you  gave  me  just 
now  strictly  true?   Now  be  careful,  sir." 

"  Your  wash-up,"  stammered  Grummer,  ''  I — " 

''  Oh,  you  are  confused,  are  you?"  said  the  magistrate. 
"  Mr.  Jinks,  you  observe  this  confusion?" 
Certainly,  sir,"  replied  Jinks. 

''Now,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  just  repeat  your  state- 
ment, Grummer,  and  again  I  warn  you  to  be  careful. 
Mr.  Jinks,  take  his  words  down." 

The  unfortunate  Grummer  proceeded  to  restate  his 
complaint,  but,  what  between  Mr.  Jinks  taking  down 
his  words,  and  the  magistrate's  taking  them  up;  his  na- 
tural tendency  to  ramble,  and  his  extreme  confusion,  he 
managed  to  get  involved,  in  something  under  three 
minutes,  in  such  a  mass  of  entanglement  and  contra- 
diction, that  Mr.  Nupkins  at  once  declared  he  didn't  be- 
lieve him.  So,  the  lines  were  remitted,  and  Mr.  Jinks 
found  a  couple  of  bail  in  no  time.  And  ail  these  solemn 
proceedings  having  been  satisfactorily  concluded,  Mr. 
Grummer  v\^as  ignominiously  ordered  out — an  awful  in- 
stance of  the  instability  of  human  greatness,  and  the  un- 
certain tenure  of  great  men's  favour. 

Mrs.  Nupkins  was  a  majestic  female  in  a  pink  gauze 
turban  and  a  light  brown  wig.  Miss  Nupkins  possessed 
all  her  maixima's  haughtiness  without  the  turban,  and  ' 
^11  her  ill-nature  without  the  wig;  and  vvheneverthe  ex- 
ercise of  these  two  amiable  qualities  involved  mother 
and  daughter  in  some  unpleasant  dilemma,  as  they  not 
unfrequently  did,  they  both  concurred  in  laying  the 
blame  on  the  shoulders  of  Mr.  Nupkins.  Accordingly, 
when  Mr.  Nupkins  sought  Mrs.  Nupkins,  and  detailed 
the  communication  which  had  been  made  by  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, Mrs.  Nupkins  suddenly  recollected  that  she  had 
always  expected  something  of  the  kind;  that  she  had 
always  said  it  would  be  so;  that  her  advice  was  never 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


381 


taken;  that  she  really  did  not  know  what  Mr.  Nupkins 
supposed  she  was;  and  so  forth. 

The  idea! "  said  Miss  Nupkins,  forcing  a  tear  of  very 
scanty  proportions  into  the  corner  of  each  eye;  ''the 
idea  of  my  being  made  such  a  fool  of!'' 

Ah!  you  may  thank  your  papa,  my  dear/'  said  Mrs. 
Nupkins;  ''how  have  I  implored  and  begged  that  man 
to  inquire  into  the  Captain's  family  connections;  how 
have  I  urged  and  entreated  him  to  take  some  decisive 
step!  I  am  quite  certain  nobody  would  believe  it — 
quite." 

"But,  my  dear/'  said  Mr.  Nupkins. 

"Don't  talk  to  me,  you  aggravating  thing,  don't!" 
said  Mrs.  Nupkins. 

"My  love/'  said  Mr.  Nupkins;  "you  professed  your- 
self very  fond  of  Captain  Fitz-Marshall.  You  have  con- 
stantly asked  him  here,  my  dear,  and  you  have  lost  no 
opportunity  of  introducing  him  elsewhere." 

"Didn't  I  say  so,  Henrietta?"  cried  Mrs.  Nupkins,  ap- 
pealing to  her  daughter,  with  the  air  of  a  mucn-injured 
female.  "  Didn't  I  say  that  your  papa  would  turn  round, 
and  lay  all  this  at  my  door?  Didn't  I  say  so?"  Here 
Mrs.  Nupkins  sobbed. 

"  Oh,  pa! "  remonstrated  Miss  Nupkins.  And  here  she 
sobbed  too. 

"Isn't  it  too  much,  when  he  has  brought  all  this  dis- 
grace and  ridicule  upon  us,  to  taunt  me  with  being  the 
cause  of  it?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Nupkins. 

"How  can  we  ever  show  ourselves  in  society!  "  said 
Miss  Nupkins. 

"  How  can  we  face  the  Porkenhamsl"  cried  Mrs.  Nup- 
kins. 

"  Or  the  Griggs's! "  cried  Miss  Nupkins. 

"OrtheSlummintowkens!"  cried  Mrs.  Nupkins.  "But 
what  does  your  papa  care!  What  is  it  to  him! "  At  this 
dreadful  reflection,  Mrs.  Nupkins  wept  with  mental 
anguish,  and  Miss  Nupkins  followed  on  the  same  side. 

Mrs.  Nupkins's  tears  continued  to  gush  forth,  with 
great  velocity,  until  she  had  gained  a  little  time  to  think 
the  matter  over:  when  she  decided,  in  her  own  mind,  that 
the  best  thing  to  do,  would  be  to  ask  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
his  friends  to  remain  until  the  Captain's  arrival,  and 
then  to  give  Mr.  Pickwick  the  opportunity  he  sought. 
If  it  appeared  that  he  had  spoken,  truly,  the  Captain 


36^ 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


could  be  turned  out  of  the  house  without  noising  the 
matter  abroad,  and  they  could  easily  account  to  the 
Porkenhams  for  his  disappearance,  by  saying  that  he 
had  been  appointed,  through  the  Court  influence  of  his 
family,  to  the  Governor-Generalship  of  Sierra  Leone,  or 
Saugur  Point,  or  any  other  of  those  salubrious  climates 
which  enchant  Europeans  so  much  that,  when  they 
once  get  there,  they  can  hardly  ever  prevail  upon  them- 
selves to  come  back  again. 

Then  Mrs.  JSTupkins  dried  up  her  tears,  Miss  Nupkins 
dried  up  her's,  and  Mr.  Nupkins  was  very  glad  to  settle 
the  matter  as  Mrs.  Nupkins  had  proposed.  So,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  his  friends,  having  washed  off  all  marks  of 
their  late  encounter,  were  introduced  to  the  ladies,  and 
soon  afterwards  to  their  dinner;  and  Mr.  Weller,  whom 
the  magistrate,  with  his  peculiar  sagacity,  had  discov- 
ered in  half  an  hour  to  be  one  of  the  finest  fellows  alive, 
was  consigned  to  the  care  and  guardianship  of  Mr.  Muz- 
zle, who  was  specially  enjoined  to  take  him  below,  and 
/      make  much  of  him. 

''How  de  do,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  as  he  conducted 
Mr.  W eller  down  the  kitchen  stairs. 

"  Why,  no  con-siderable  change  has  taken  place  in  the 
state  of  my  system,  since  I  see  you  cocked  up  behind 
your  governor's  chair  in  the  parlour,  a  little  vile  ago," 
replied  Sam. 

You  will  excuse  my  not  taking  more  notice  of  you 
then,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle.  ''You  see,  master  hadn't  in- 
troduced us,  then.  Lord,  how  fond  he  is  of  you,  Mr. 
Weller,  to  be  sure!" 

Ah,"  said  Sam,  ''what  a  pleasant  chap  he  is!" 
"  Ain't  he?  "  replied  Mr.  Muzzle. 
"  So  much  humour,"  said  Sam. 

"  And  such  a  man  to  speak,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle.  "  How 
his  ideas  flow,  don't  they?" 

"  Wonderful,"  replied  Sam,  "  they  comes  a  pouring  out, 
knocking  each  other's  heads  so  fast,  that  they  seem  to 
stun  one  another;  you  hardly  know  what  he's  arter,  do 
you?" 

"That's  the  great  merit  of  his  style  of  speaking,"  re- 
joined Mr.  Muzzle.  "Take  care  of  the  last  step,  Mr. 
Weller.  Would  you  like  to  wash  your  hands,  sir,  before 
we  join  the  ladies?  Here's  a  sink,  with  the  water  laid 
on,  sir,  and  a  clean  jack  towel  behind  the  door," 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


3G3 


''Ah!  Perhaps  I  may  as  well  have  a  rinse,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller,  applying  plenty  of  yellow  soap  to  the  towel, 
and  rubbing  away,  till  his  face  shone  again.  '"How 
many  ladies  are  there?" 

* 'Only  two  in  our  kitchen,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  "cook 
and  'ousemaid.  We  keep  a  boy  to  do  the  dirty  work, 
and  a  gal  besides,  but  they  dine  in  the  washus." 

"Oh,  they  dines  in  the  washus,  do  they?"  said  Mr. 
Weller. 

*'Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Muzzle;  "we  tried  'em  at  our 
table  when  they  first  came,  but  we  couldn't  keep  'em. 
The  girl's  manners  is  dreadful  vulgar;  and  the  boy 
breathes  so  very  hard  while  he  is  eating,  that  we  found 
it  impossible  to  sit  at  the  table  with  him." 

''Young  grampus!"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"Oh,  dreadful,"  rejoined  Mr.  Muzzle;  "but  that  is 
the  worst  of  country  service,  Mr.  Weller;  the  juniors  is 
always  so  very  savage.  This  way,  sir,  if  you  please — 
this  way." 

Preceding  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  utmost  politeness, 
Mr.  Muzzle  conducted  him  into  the  kitchen. 

"Mary,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle  to  the  pretty  servant-girl, 
"this  is  Mr.  Weller:  a  gentleman  as  jnaster  has  sent 
down,  to  be  made  as  comfortable  as  possible." 

"And  your  master's  a  knowin'  hand,  and  has  just 
sent  me  to  the  right  place,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a 
glance  of  admiration  at  Mary.  "  If  I  wos  master  o'  this 
here  house,  I  should  always  find  the  materials  for  com- 
fort vere  Mary  wos." 

"Lor,  Mr.  Weller!"  said  Mary,  blushing. 

"  Well,  I  never!"  ejaculated  the  cook. 

"  Bless  me,  cook,  I  forgot  you,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle. 
•'  Mr.  Weller,  let  me  introduce  you." 

"  How  are  you,  ma'am?"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Werry 
glad  to  see  you,  indeed,  and  hope  our  acquaintance 
may  be  a  long  'un,  as  the  gen'lm'n  said  to  tne  fi'  pun' 
note." 

When  this  ceremony  of  introduction  had  been  gone 
through,  the  cook  and  Mary  retired  into  the  back  kitchen 
to  titter  for  ten  minutes;  then  returning,  all  giggles  and 
blushes,  they  sat  down  to  dinner. 

Mr.  Weller's  easy  manner  and  conversational  powers 
had  such  irresistible  influence  with  his  new  friends  that, 
before  the  dinner  was  lialf  over,  they  were  on  a  footing 


3C4 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


of  perfect  intimacy,  and  in  possession  of  a  full  account 
of  the  delinquency  of  Job  Trotter. 

I  never  could  a-bear  that  Job,"  said  Mary. 
"  No  more  you  never  ought  to,  my  dear/'  replied  Mr. 
Weller. 

Why  not?"  inquired  Mary. 
"  Cos  ugliness  and  svindlin'  never  ought  to  be  for- 
miliar  with  elegance  and  wirtew/'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 
"  Ought  they,  Mr.  Muzzle. 
"  Not  by  no  means,"  replied  that  gentleman. 
Here  Mary  laughed,  and  said  the  cook  had  made  her; 
and  the  cook  laughed,  and  said  she  hadn't. 
I  han't  got  a  glass,"  said  Mary. 

Drink  with  me,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  ^'Put 
your  lips  to  this  here  tumbler,  and  then  I  can  kiss  you 
by  deputy." 

^'For  shame,  Mr.  Weller!"  said  Mary. 

What's  a  shame,  my  dear?" 
''Talkin'  in  that  way." 

''Nonsense;  it  ain't  no  harm.  It's  natur;  ain't  it, 
cook?" 

''Don't ask  me,  imperence,"  replied  the  cook,  in  a  high 
state  of  delight:  and  thereupon  the  cook  and  Mary 
laughed  again,  till  what  between  the  beer,  and  the  cold 
meat,  and  the  laughter  combined,  the  latter  young  lady 
was  brought  to  the  verge  of  choking — an  alarming 
crisis  from  which  she  Vv^as  only  recovered  by  sundry 
pats  on  her  back,  and  other  necessary  attentions,  most 
delicately  administered  by  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  jollity  and  convivality,  a  loud 
ring  was  heard  at  the  garden-gate:  to  which  the  young 
gentleman  who  took  his  meals  in  the  wash-house  im- 
mediately responded.  Mr.  Weller  was  in  the  height  of 
Ills  attentions  to  the  pretty  house-maid;  Mr.  Muzzle  was 
busy  doin^  the  honours  of  the  table;  and  the  cook  had 
just  paused  to  laugh,  in  the  very  act  of  raising  a  huge 
morsel  to  her  lips;  when  the  kitchen-door  opened,  and 
in  walked  Mr.  Job  Trotter. 

^e  have  said  in  walked  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  but  the 
statement  is  not  distinguished  by  our  usual  scrupulous 
adherence  to  fact.  The  door  opened  and  Mr.  Trotter 
appeared.  He  would  have  walked  in,  and  was  in  the 
very  act  of  doing  so,  indeed,  when,  catching  sight  of  Mr. 
Weller,  he  involuntarily  shrunk  back  a  pace  or  two, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


366 


and  stood  gazing  on  the  unexpected  scene  before  him, 
perfectly  motionless  with  amazement  and  terror. 

*  'Here  he  is !"  said  Sam,  rising  with  great  glee.  "  Why, 
we  were  that  werry  moment  a  speaking  o'  you.  How  are 
you?  Were  have  you  been?  Come  in." 

Laying  his  hand  on  the  mulberry  collar  of  the  unre- 
sisting Job,  Mr.  Weller  dragged  him  into  the  kitchen; 
and,  locking  the  door,  handed  the  key  to  Mr.  Muzzle, 
who  very  coolly  buttoned  it  up  in  a  side-pocket. 

''Well,  here's  a  ^amel"  cried  Sam.  ''Only  think  o' 
my  master  havin'  the  pleasure  o'  meeting  your'n,  up 
stairs,  and  me  havin'  the  joy  o'  meetin'  you  down  here. 
How  are  you  gettin'  on,  and  how  is  the  chandlery  bis'- 
ness  likely  to  do?  Well,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  How 
happy  you  look.  It's  quite  a  treat  to  see  you;  ain't  it, 
Mr.  Muzzle?" 

"  Quite,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle. 

"So  cheerful  he  is!"  said  Sam. 

"In  such  good  spirits,"  said  Muzzle. 

"And  so  glad  to  see  us — that  makes  it  so  much  more 
comfortable,"  said  Sam.    "Sit  down;  sit  down." 

Mr.  Trotter  suffered  himself  to  be  forced  into  a 
chair  by  the  fireside.  He  cast  his  small  eyes  first 
on  Mr.  Weller,  and  then  on  Mr.  Muzzle,  but  said 
nothing. 

"Well,  now,"  said  Sam,  "afore  these  here  ladies,  I 
should  jest  like  to  ask  you,  as  a  sort  of  curiosity,  wether 
you  don't  con-sider  yourself  as  nice  and  well-behaved  a 
young  gen'lm'n  as  ever  used  a  pink  check  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, and  the  number  four  collection?" 

"And  as  was  ever  a-going  to  be  married  to  a  cook," 
said  that  lady,  indignantly.    "  The  willin!" 

"And  leave  off  his  evil  ways,  and  set  up  in  the  chand- 
lery line  arter wards,"  said  the  housemaid. 

"Xow,  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  young  man,"  said  Mr^ 
Muzzle,  solemnly,  enraged  at  the  last  two  allusions, 
"this  here  lady  (pointing  to  the  cook)  keeps  company 
with  me;  and  when  you  presume,  sir,  to  talk  of  keeping 
chandlers'  shops  with  her,  you  injure  me  in  one  of  Ihe 
most  delicatest  points  in  which  one  man  can  in;pre 
another.    Do  you  understand  me,  sir?" 

Here  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  had  a  great  notion  of  his  elo- 
quence, in  which  he  imitated  his  master,  paused  for  a 
reply. 


366 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


But  Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply.  So  Mr.  Muzzle  pro- 
ceeded in  a  solemn  manner: 

"  It's  very  probable,  sir,  that  you  won't  be  wanted  up 
stairs  for  several  minutes,  sir,  because  7ny  master  is  at 
this  moment  particularly  engaged  in  settling  the  hash 
of  your  master,  sir;  and,  therefore,  you'll  have  leisure, 
sir,  for  a  little  private  talk  with  me,  sir.  Do  you  under- 
stand me,  sir?" 

Mr.  Muzzle  again  paused  for  a  reply;  and  again  Mr. 
Trotter  disappointed  him. 

''Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  ^Tm  very  sorry  to 
have  to  explain  myself  before  ladies,  but  the  urgency  of 
the  case  will  be  my  excuse.  The  back  kitchen's  empty, 
sir.  If  you  will  step  in  there,  sir,  Mr.  Weller  will  see 
fair,  and  we  can  have  mutual  satisfaction  'till  the  bell 
rings.    Follow  me,  sir." 

As  Mr.  Muzzle  uttered  these  words  he  took  a  step  or 
two  towards  the  door;  and  by  way  of  saving  time  be- 
gan to  pull  off  his  coat  as  he  walked  along. 

Now,  the  cook  no  sooner  heard  the  concluding  words 
of  this  desperate  challenge,  and  saw  Mr.  Muzzle  about 
to  put  it  into  execution,  than  she  uttered  a  loud  and 
piercing  shriek,  and  rushing  on  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  who 
rose  from  his  chair  on  the  instant,  tore  and  buffeted  his 
large,  flat  face,  with  an  energy  peculiar  to  excited  fe- 
males, and  twining  her  hands  in  his  long,  black  hair, 
tore  therefrom  about  enough  to  make  five  or  six  dozen 
of  the  very  largest-sized  mourning-rings.  Having  ac- 
complished this  feat  with  all  the  ardour  which  her 
devoted  love  for  Mr.  Muzzle  inspired,  she  staggered 
back;  and  being  a  lady  of  very  excitable  and  delicate 
J  feelings,  instantly  fell  under  the  dresser,  and  fainted 
away. 

At  this  moment  the  bell  rang. 

''That's  for  you.  Job  Trotter,''  said  Sam;  and  before 
Mr.  Trotter  could  offer  remonstrance  or  reply — even  be- 
fore he  had  time  to  stanch  the  wounds  inflicted  by  the 
insensible  lady — Sam  seized  one  arm  and  Mr.  Muzzle  the 
other;  and  one  pulling  before,  and  the  other  pushing  be- 
hind they  conveyed  him  up  stairs  and  into  the  parlour. 

It  was  an  impressive  tableau.  Alfred  Jingle,  Esquire, 
alias  Captain  Fitz-Marshall,  was  standing  near  the  door 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  a  smile  on  his  face,  wholly 
unmoved  by  his  very  unpleasant  situation.  Confront- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


367 


ing  him,  stood  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  evidently  been 
inculcating  some  high  moral  lesson;  for  his  left  hand  was 
beneath  his  coat  tail,  and  his  right  extended  in  air,  as 
was  his  wont  when  delivering  himself  of  an  impressive 
address.  At  a  little  distance  stood  Mr.  Tupman,  with 
indignant  countenance,  carefully  held  back  by  his  two 
younger  friends;  at  the  further  end  of  the  room  were 
Mr.  Nupkins,  Mrs.  Nupkins,  and  Miss  Nupkins,  gloomily 
grand  and  savagely  vexed. 

"  What  prevents  me,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  with  magis- 
terial dignity,  as  Job  was  brought  in;  ''what  prevents 
me  from  detaining  these  men  as  rogues  and  impostors? 
It  is  a  foolish  mercy.    What  prevents  me?" 

"  Pride,  old  fellow,  pride,"  replied  Jingle,  quite  at  his 
ease.  "  Wouldn't  do — no  go — caught  a  captain,  eh? — 
ha  I  ha  I  very  good — husband  for  daughter — biter  bit — 
make  it  public — not  for  worlds — looks  stupid — very!" 

''  Wretch,"  said  Mrs.  Nupkins,  "we  scorn  your  base 
insinuations." 

"  I  always  hated  him,"  added  Henrietta. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  said  Jingle.  "Tall  young  man — old 
lover — Sidney  Porkenham — rich — fine  fellow — not  so  rich 
as  captain,  though? — turn  him  away — off  with  him — any- 
thing for  captain — nothing  like  captain  anywhere — all 
the  girls — raving  mad — eh.  Job?" 

Here  Mr.  Jingle  laughed  very  heartily;  and  Job,  rub- 
bing his  hands  with  delight,  uttered  the  first  sound  he 
had  given  vent  to,  since  he  entered  the  house — a  low, 
noiseless  chuckle,  which  seemed  to  intimate  that  he  en- 
joyed his  laugh  too  much  to  let  any  of  it  escape  in 
sound. 

"Mr.  Nupkins,"  said  the  elder  lady,  "this  is  not  a  fit 
conversation  for  the  servants  to  overhear.  Let  these 
wretches  be  removed." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  "  Muzzle!" 

"  Your  worship." 

"  Open  the  front  door." 

"Yes,  your  worship." 

"Leave  the  house!"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  waving  his 
hand  emphatically. 
Jingle  smiled,  and  moved  towards  the  door. 
"Stay!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Jingle  stopped. 

"  I  might,"  said  Mr.  Pick^vick,  "have  taken  a  much 


368  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

greater  revenge  for  the  treatment  I  have  experienced  at 
your  hands,  and  that  of  your  hypocritical  friend  there.'' 

Job  Trotter  bowed  with  great  politeness,  and  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  heart. 

I  say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  gradually  angry, 
'^that  I  might  have  taken  a  greater  revenge,  but  I  con- 
tent myself  with  exposing  you,  which  I  consider  a  duty 
I  owe  to  society.  This  is  a  leniency,  sir,  which  I  hope 
you  will  remember." 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  arrived  at  this  point,  Job  Trotter, 
with  facetious  gravity,  applied  his  hand  to  his  ear,  as  if 
desirous  not  to  lose  a  syllable  he  uttered. 

And  I  have  only  to  add,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  now 
thoroughly  angry,  ''that  I  consider  you  a  rascal,  and  a 
— a  ruffian — and — and  worse  than  any  man  I  ever  sav^ 
or  heard  of,  except  that  pious  and  sanctified  vagabond 
in  the  mulberry  livery." 

''Ha!  ha!"  said  Jingle,  "good  fellow — Pickwick— tine 
heart — stout  old  boy — but  must  not  be  passionate — bad 
thing,  very — bye,  bye — see  you  again  some  day — keep 
up  your  spirits — now,  Job — trot!" 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Jingle  stuck  on  his  hat  in  the 
old  fashion,  and  strode  out  of  the  room.  Job  Trotter 
paused,  looked  round,  smiled,  and  then  with  a  bow  of 
mock  solemnity  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  a  wink  to  Mr. 
Weller,  the  audacious  slyness  of  which  baffles  all  descrip- 
tion, followed  the  footsteps  of  his  hopeful  master. 

"Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Mr.  Weller  was  fol- 
lowing. 

"  Sir." 

"Stay  here." 

Mr.  Weller  seemed  uncertain. 

"  Stay  here,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Mayn't  I  polish  that  ere  Job  off,  in  the  front  garden?" 
said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Mayn't  I  kick  him  out  o'  the  gate,  sir?"  said  Mr. 
Weller. 

"Not  on  any  account,"  replied  his  master. 

For  the  first  time  since  his  engagement,  Mr.  Weller 
looked,  for  a  moment,  discontented  and  unhappy.  But 
his  countenance  immediately  cleared  up;  for  the  wily 
Mr.  Muzzle,  by  concealing  himself  behind  the  street 
door,  and  rushing  violently  out,  at  the  right  instant,  con- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


369 


trived  with  great  dexterity  to  overturn  both  Mr.  Jingle 
and  his  attendant  down  the  flight  of  steps,  into  the 
American  aloe  tubs  that  stood  beneath. 

^'Having  discharged  my  duty,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick to  Mr.  Nupkins,  ^^I  will,  with  my  friends,  bid  you 
farewell.  While  we  thank  you  for  such  hospitality  as 
we  have  received,  permit  me  to  assure  you,  in  our  joint 
names,  that  we  should  not  have  accepted  it,  or  have 
consented  to  extricate  ourselves  in  this  way,  from  our 
previous  dilemma,  had  we  not  been  impelled  by  a 
strong  sense  of  duty.  We  return  to  London  to-morrow. 
Your  secret  is  safe  with  us." 

Having  thus  entered  his  protest  against  their  treat- 
ment of  the  morning,  Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  low  to  the 
ladies;  and,  notwithstanding  the  solicitations  of  the 
family,  left  the  room  with  his  friends. 

Get  your  hat,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
It's  below  stairs,  sir,"  said  Sam,  and  he  ran  down 
a.fter  it. 

Now,  there  was   nobody  in  the   kitchen  but  the 

Eretty  house-maid;  and  as  Sam's  hat  was  mislaid,  he 
ad  to  look  for  it;  and  the  pretty  house-maid  lighted 
him.  They  had  to  look  all  over  the  place  for  the  hat. 
The  pretty  house-maid,  in  her  anxiety  to  find  it,  went 
down  on  her  knees,  and  turned  over  all  the  things  that 
were  heaped  together  in  a  little  corner  by  the  door. 
It  was  an  awkward  corner.  You  couldn't  get  at  it 
without  shutting  the  door  first. 

Here  it  is,"  said  the  pretty  house-maid.  This  is  it, 
ain't  it?" 

Let  me  look,"  said  Sam. 
The  pretty  house-maid  had  stood  the  candle  on  the 
floor;  as  it  gave  a  very  dim  light,  Sam  was  obliged  to 
go  down  on  his  knees  before  he  could  see  whether  it 
really  was  his  own  hat  or  not.    It  was  a  remarkably 
small  corner,  and  so — it  was  nobody's  fault  but  the 
man's  who  built  the  house— Sam  and  the  pretty  house- 
maid were  necessarily  very  close  together. 
"  Yes,  this  is  it,"  said  Sam.    "  Good  bye  I " 
Good  bye  ! "  said  the  pretty  house-maid. 
Good  bye  ! "  said  Sam;  and  as  he  said  it,  he  dropped 
the  hat  that  had  cost  him  so  much  trouble  in  looking  for. 

''How  awkward  you  are,"  said  the  pretty  house- 
maid.   "  You'll  lose  it  again,  if  you  don't  take  care," 


370  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

So,  just  to  prevent  his  losing  it  again,  she  put  it  on 
for  him. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  prettj^  house-maid's  face 
looked  prettier  still,  when  it  was  raised  towards  Sam's, 
or  whether  it  was  the  accidental  consequence  of  their 
being  so  near  to  each  other,  is  matter  of  uncertainty  to 
this  day;  but  Sam  kissed  her. 

^'You  don't  mean  to  say  you  did  that  on  purpose," 
said  the  pretty  house-maid,  blushing. 

"  No,  I  didn't  then,"  said  Sam;  ''but  I  will  now." 

So  he  kissed  her  again. 

''Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  calling  over  the  ban- 
nisters. 

"  Coming,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  running  up  stairs. 

"  How  long  you  have  been  ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  There  was  something  behind  the  door,  sir,  which 
perwented  our  getting  it  open  for  ever  so  long,  sir," 
replied  Sam. 

And  this  was  the  fil-st  passage  of  Mr.  Weller's  first 
love. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

WHICH  CONTAINS  A  BRIEF  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  PROGRESS  OF 
THE  ACTION  OF  BARDELL  AGAINST  PICKWICK. 

Having  accomplished  the  main  end  and  object  of  his 
journey,  by  the  exposure  of  Jingle,  Mr.  Pickwick  re- 
solved on  immediately  returning  to  London,  with  the 
view  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  proceedings 
which  had  been  taken  against  him,  in  the  meantime, 
by  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg.  Acting  upon  this  resolu- 
tion with  all  the  energy  and  decision  of  his  character,  he 
mounted  to  the  back  seat  of  the  first  coach  which  left 
Ipswich  on  the  morning  after  the  memorable  occur- 
rences detailed  at  length  in  the  two  preceding  chap- 
ters ;  and,  accompanied  by  his  three  friends  and  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller,  arrived  in  the  metropolis,  in  perfect 
health  and  safety,  the  same  evening. 

Here,  the  friends,  for  a  short  time,  separated.  Messrs. 
Tupman,  Winkle,  and  Snodgrass  repaired  to  their  several 
homes  to  make  such  preparations  as  might  be  requisite 
for  their  forthcoming  visit  to  Dingley  Dell  5  and  Mr, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


371 


Pickwick  and  Sam  took  up  their  present  abode  in  very 
good,  old-fashioned,  and  comfortable  quarters  :  to  wit, 
the  George  and  Vulture  Tavern  and  Hotel,  George  Yard, 
Lombard  Street. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  dined,  finished  his  second  pint  of 
particular  port,  pulled  his  silk  handkerchief  over  his 
head,  put  his  feet  on  the  fender,  and  thrown  himself 
back  in  an  easy  chair,  when  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Weller 
with  his  carpet  bag  aroused  him  from  his  tranquil  medi- 
tations. 

*'Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Sir/'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  have  just  been  thinking,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  • 
^^that  having  left  a  good  many  things  at  Mrs.  Bardell's, 
in  Goswell  Street,  I  ought  to  arrange  for  taking  them 
away  before  I  leave  town  again." 

"  Worry  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  could  send  them  to  Mr.  Tupman's  for  the  present, 
Sam,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick, but,  before  we  take 
them  away,  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  be  looked 
up,  and  put  together.  I  wish  you  would  step  up  to  Gos- 
well Street,  Sam,  and  arrange  about  it." 

"  At  once,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

''At once,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''And  stay,  Sam," 
added  Mr.  Pickwick,  pulling  out  his  purse.  "There  is 
some  rent  to  pay.  The  quarter  is  not  due  till  Christmas, 
but  you  may  pay  it,  and  have  done  with  it.  A  month's 
notice  terminates  my  tenancy.  Here  it  is  written  out. 
Give  it,  and  tell  Mrs.  Bardell  she  may  put  a  bill  up  as 
soon  as  she  likes." 

"Worry  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  "any thin' 
more,  sir?" 

"  Nothing  more,  Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  stepped  slowly  to  the  door,  as  if  he  expected 
something  more ;  slowly  opened  it,  slowly  stepped  out, 
and  had  slowly  closed  it  within  a  couple  of  inches,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  called  out. 

"  Sam." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  stepping  quickly  back,  and 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"  I  have  no  objection,  Sam,  to  your  endeavouring  to  as- 
certain how  Mrs.  Bardell  herself  seems  disposed  towards 
me,  and  whether  it  is  really  probable  that  this  vile 
and  groundless  action  is  to  be  carried  to  extremity.  I  say 


372 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


I  do  not  object  to  your  doing  this,  if  you  wish  it,  Sam/' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  gave  a  short  nod  of  intelligence,  and  left  the 
room.  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  his  silk  handkerchief  once 
more  over  his  head,  and  composed  himself  for  a  nap. 
Mr.  Weller  promptly  walked  forth  to  execute  his  com- 
mission. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  he  reached  Goswell 
Street.  A  couple  of  candles  were  burning  in  the  little 
front  parlour,  and  a  couple  of  caps  were  reflected  on  the 
window-blind.    Mrs.  Bardell  had  got  company. 

Mr.  Weller  knocked  at  the  door,  and  after  a  pretty 
•  long  interval — occupied  by  the  party  without  in  whistling 
a  tune,  and  by  a  party  within  in  persuading  a  refractory 
fiat  candle  to  allow  itself  to  be  lighted — a  pair  of  small 
boots  pattered  over  the  floor-cloth,  and  Master  Bardell 
presented  himself. 

"  Well,  young  townskip,"  said  Sam,    how's  mother?" 

''She's  pretty  well,"  replied  Master  Bardwell;  ''so 
am  I." 

"  Well,  that's  a  mercy,"  said  Sam;  "tell  her  I  want  to 
speak  to  her,  will  you,  my  hinfant  fernomenon?" 

Master  Bardell,  thus  adjured,  placed  the  refractory 
flat  candle  on  the  bottom  stair,  and  vanished  into  the 
front  parlour  with  his  message. 

The  two  caps  reflected  on  the  window-blind  were  the 
respective  head-dresses  of  a  couple  of  Mrs.  Bardell's 
most  particular  acquaintance,  who  had  just  stepped  in 
to  have  a  quiet  cup  of  tea,  and  a  little  warm  supper  of  a 
couple  of  sets  of  pettitoes  and  some  toasted  cheese.  The 
cheese  was  simmering  and  browning  away,  most  -de- 
lightfully, in  a  little  Dutch  oven  before  the  fire;  and  the 
pettitoes  were  getting  on  deliciously  in  a  little  tin  sauce- 
pan on  the  hob;  and  Mrs.  Bardell  and  her  two  friends 
Avere  getting  on  very  well,  also,  in  a  little  quiet  conver- 
sation about  and  concerning  all  their  particular  friends 
and  acquaintance;  when  Master  Bardell  came  back 
from  answering  the  door,  and  delivered  the  message 
intrusted  to  him  by  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

"Mr.  Pickwick's  servant!"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  turning 
pale. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 
"Well,  I  raly  would  not  ha'  believed  it,  unless  I  had 
ha'  happened  to  ha'  been  here!"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


378 


Mrs.  Cluppins  was  a  little,  brisk,  busy-looking  woman; 
and  Mrs.  Sanders  was  a  big,  fat,  heavy -faced  person- 
age; and  the  two  were  the  company. 

Mrs.  Bardell  felt  it  proper  to  be  agitated;  and  as  none 
of  the  three  exactly  knew  whether,  under  existing  cir- 
cumstances, any  communication, otherwise  than  through 
Dodson  and  Fogg,  ought  to  be  held  with  Mr.  Pickwick's 
servant,  they  were  all  rather  taken  by  surprise.  In  this 
state  of  indecision,  obviously  the  first  thing  to  be  done 
was  to  thump  the  boy  for  finding  Mr.  Weller  at  the 
door.  So  his  mother  thumped  him,  and  he  cried  melo- 
diously. 

'*Hold  your  noise — do — you  naughty  creetur!"  said 
Mrs.  Bardell. 

''Yes;  don't  worrit  your  poor  mother,"  said  Mrs.  San- 
ders. 

''She's  quite  enough  to  worrit  her,  as  it  is,  without 
you,  Tommy,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  sympathizing 
resignation. 

"Ah!  worse  luck,  poor  lamb!"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 
At  all  which  moral  reflections  Master  Bardell  howled 
the  louder. 

"Now,  what  shall  I  do?"  said  Mrs.  Bardell  to  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  see  him,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins. 
But  on  no  account  without  a  witness." 

"/think  two  witnesses  would  be  more  lawful,"  said 
Mrs.  Sanders,  who,  like  the  other  friend,  was  bursting 
with  curiosity. 

"  Perhaps  he'd  better  come  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"To  be  sure,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins,  eagerly  catching 
at  the  idea.  "  Walk  in,  young  man;  and  shut  the  street- 


Mr.  Weller  immediately  took  the  hint;  and  presenting 
himself  in  the  parlour,  explained  his  business  to  Mrs. 
Bardell,  thus: 

"  Werry  sorry  to  'casion  any  personal  inconwenience, 
ma'am,  as  the  housebreaker  said  to  the  old  lady  when 
lie  put  her  on  the  fire;  but  as  me  and  my  governor's 
only  jest  come  to  town,  and  is  jest  going  away  agin,  it 
can't  be  helped,  you  see." 

"  Of  course,  the  young  man  can't  help  the  faults  of  his 
master,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  much  struck  by  Mr.  Wel- 
ler's  appearance  and  conversation. 


374  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


'^Certainly  not/'  chimed  in  Mrs.  Sanders,  who,  from, 
certain  wistful  glances  at  the  little  tin  saucepan,  seemed 
to  be  engaged  in  a  mental  calculation  of  the  probable 
extent  of  the  pettitoes,  in  the  event  of  Sam's  being  asked 
to  stop  to  supper. 

"  So  all  I've  come  about,  is  just  this  here,"  said  Sam, 
disregarding  the  interruption:  "  First,  to  give  my  gover- 
nor's notice — there  it  is.  Secondly,  to  pay  the  rent — 
here  it  is.  Thirdly,  to  say  as  all  his  things  is  to  be  put 
together,  and  give  to  anybody  as  we  sends  for  'em. 
Fourthly,  that  you  may  let  the  place  as  soon  as  you 
like — and  that's  all." 

Whatever  has  happened,"  said  Mr3.  Bardell,  I  al- 
ways have  said,  and  always  will  say,  that  in  every 
respect  but  one,  Mr.  Pickwick  has  alwa;^s  behaved  him- 
self like  a  perfect  gentleman.  His  money  always  was 
as  good  as  the  bank;  always." 

As  Mrs.  Bardell  said  this,  she  applied  her  handker- 
chief to  her  eyes,  and  went  out  of  the  room  to  get  the 
receipt. 

Sam  well  knew  that  he  had  only  to  remain  quiet,  and 
the  women  were  sure  to  talk;  so  he  looked  alternately 
at  the  tin  saucepan,  the  toasted  cheese,  the  wall,  and 
the  ceiling,  in  profound  silence. 

^^Poor  dear!"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"  Ah,  poor  thing!"  replied  Mrs.  Sanders. 

Sam  said  nothing.  He  saw  they  were  coming  to  the 
subject. 

''I  raly  cannot  contain  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
''when  I  think  of  such  perjury.  I  don't  wish  to  say 
anything  to  make  you  uncomfortable,  young  man,  but 
your  master's  an  old  brute^  and  I  wish  I  had  him  here  to 
tell  him  so." 

I  wish  you  had,"  said  Sam. 

"  To  see  how  dreadful  she  takes  on,  going  moping 
about  and  taking  no  pleasure  in  nothing,  except  when 
her  friends  comes  in,  out  of  charity,  to  sit  with  her  and 
make  her  comfortable,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins,  glanc- 
ing at  the  tin  sauce-pan  and  the  Dutch  oven;  ''it's 
shocking!" 

"Barbareous,"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"And  your  master,  young  man!  A  gentleman  with 
money,  as  could  never  feel  the  expense  of  a-  wife,  no 
more  than  nothing,"  continued  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


375 


great  volubility;  why,  there  ain't  the  faintest  shade  of 
an  excuse  for  his  behaviour!  Why  don't  he  marry 
her?" 

''Ah,"  said  Sam,  ''to  be  sure;  that's  the  question." 

"Question,  indeed,"  retorted  Mrs.  Cluppins;  "she'd 
question  him  if  she'd  my  spirit.  Hows'ever,  there  is 
law  for  us  women,  mis'rable  creatures  as  they'd  make  us 
if  they  could;  and  that  your  master  will  find  out,  young 
man,  to  his  cost  afore  he's  six  months  older." 

At  this  consolatory  reflection,  Mrs.  Cluppins  bridled  up 
and  smiled  at  Mrs.  Sanders,  who  smiled  back  again. 

"The  action's  going  on  and  no  mistake,"  thought  Sam, 
as  Mrs.  Bardell  re-entered  with  the  receipt. 

"Here's  the  receipt,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell, 
"and  here's  the  change,  and  I  hope  you'll  take  a  little 
drop  of  something  to  keep  the  cold  out,  if  it's  only  for 
old  acquaintance  sake,  Mr.  Weller." 

Sam  saw  the  advantage  he  should  gain  and  at  once 
acquiesced;  whereupon  Mrs.  Bardell  produced  from  a 
small  closet  a  black  bottle  and  a  wine  glass;  and  so  great 
was  her  abstraction  in  her  deep  mental  affliction  that, 
after  filling  Mr.  Weller's  glass,  she  brought  out  three 
more  wine  glasses  and  filleS  them  too. 

"Lauk,  Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "see  what 
you've  been  and  done!" 

"  Well,  that  is  a  good  one!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"Ah,  my  poor  head!"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

Sam  understood  all  this,  of  course,  so  he  said  at  once 
that  he  never  could  drink  before  supper  unless  a  lady 
drank  with  him.  A  great  deal  of  laughing  ensued,  and 
Mrs.  Sanders  volunteered  to  humour  him,  so  she  took  a 
slight  sip  out  of  her  glass.  Then  Sam  said  it  must  go 
all  round,  so  they  all  took  a  slight  sip.  Then  little  Mrs. 
Cluppins  proposed  as  a  toast,  "  Success  to  Bardell  again 
PicKwick;"  and  then  the  ladies  emptied  their  glasses  in 
honour  of  the  sentiment,  and  got  very  talkative  directly. 

"I  suppose  you've  heard  what's  going  forward,  Mr. 
Weller?"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  I've  heard  somethin'  on  it,"  replied  Sam. 

"It's  a  terrible  thing  to  be  dragged  before  the  public 
in  that  way,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell;  "but  I  see 
now  that  it's  the  only  thing  I  ought  to  do,  and  my  law- 
yers, Mr.  Dodson  and   "^-^-^o-,  tell  me  that  with  the 


^76  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

evidence  as  we  shall  call  we  must  succeed.  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  do,  Mr.  Weller,  if  I  didn't." 

The  mere  idea  of  Mrs.  BardelFs  failing  in  her  action 
affected  Mrs.  Sanders  so  deeply  that  she  was  under  the 
necessity  of  refilling  and  re-emptying  her  glass  imme- 
diately ;  feeling,  as  she  said  afterwards,  that  if  she 
hg,dn't  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  have  done  so,  she 
must  have  dropped. 

''Yen  is  it  expected  to  come  on?" inquired  Sam. 

^'Either  in  February  or  March,"  replied  Mrs.  Bardell. 
What  a  number  of  witnesses  there'll  be, won't  there?" 
said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

''Ah,  won't  there!"  replied  Mrs.  Sanders. 

''  And  won't  Mr..  Dodson  and  Fogg  be  wild  if  the  plain- 
tiff shouldn't  get  it?"  added  Mrs.  Cluppins,  ''when  they 
do  it  all  on  speculation!" 

"Ah,  won't  they!"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"But  the  plaintiff  must  get  it,  "resumed  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Oh,  there  can't  be  any  doubt  about  it,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Sanders. 

"Veil,"  said  Sam,  rising  and  setting  down  his  glass. 
"All  I  can  say  is,  that  I  wish  you  7nay  get  it." 

"Thank'ee,  Mr.  "Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  fervently. 

"  And  of  them  Dodson  and  Fogg,  as  does  these  sorts 
o' things  on.  spec,"  continued  Mr.  Weller,  "as  well  as 
for  the  other  kind  and  gen'rous  people  o'  the  same  pro- 
fession, as  sets  people  by  the  ears,  free  gratis  for  nothin', 
and  sets  their  clerks  to  work  to  find  out  little  disputes 
among  their  neighbours  and  acquaintance  as  vants 
settlin'  by  means  o'  law-suits — all  I  can  say  'o  them  is, 
that  I  vish  they  had  the  revard  I'd  give  'em." 

"  Ah,  I  wish  they  had  the  reward  that  every  kind  and 
generous  heart  would  be  inclined  to  bestow  upon  them," 
said  the  gratified  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Amen  to  that,"  replied  Sam,  "and  a  fat  and  happy 
livin'  they'd  get  out  of  it  !  Wish  you  good-night, 
ladies." 

To  the  great  relief  of  Mrs.  Sanders,  Sam  was  allowed 
to  depart  without  any  reference  on  the  part  of  the  hostess 
to  the  pettitoes  and  toasted  cheese,  to  which  the  ladies, 
with  such  juvenile  assistance  as  Master  Bardell  could 
afford,  soon  afterwards  rendered  the  amplest  justice — 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


377 


indeed  they  wholly  vanished  before  their  strenuous  exer- 
tions. 

Mr.  Weller  went  his  way  back  to  the  George  and  Vul- 
ture, and  faithfully  recounted  to  his  master  such  indica- 
tions of  the  sharp  practice  of  Dodson  and  Fogg  as  he 
had  contrived  to  pick  up  in  his  visit  to  Mrs.  BardelFs. 
An  interview  with  Mr.  Perker  next  day  more  than  con- 
firmed Mr.  Weller's  statement,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  , 
fain  to  prepare  for  his  Christmas  visit  to  Dingley  Dell,  ^ 
v/ith  the  pleasant  anticipation  that  some  two  or  three 
months  afterwards  an  action  brought  against  him  for 
damages  sustained  by  reason  of  a  breach  of  promise  of 
marriage  would  be  publicly  tried  in  the  Court  of  Common 
Pleas,  the  plaintiff  naving  all  the  advantages  derivable 
not  only  from  the  force  of  circumstances,  but  from  the 
sharp  practice  of  Dodson  and  Fogg  to  boot. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SAMUEL  WELLER  MAKES  A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  DORKING,  AND 
BEHOLDS  HIS  MOTHER-IN-LAW. 

There  still  remaining  an  interval  of  two  days  before 
the  time  agreed  upon  for  the  departure  of  the  Pick- 
wickiaiis  to  Dingley  Dell,  Mr.  Weller  sat  himself  down 
in  a  back  room  at  the  George  and  Vulture,  after  eating  \ 
an  early  dinner,  to  muse  on  the  best  way  of  disposing  of 
his  time.  It  was  a  remarkably  fine  day,  and  he  had 
not  turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind  ten  minutes  when 
he  was  suddenly  stricken  filial  and  affectionate,  and  it 
occurred  to  him  so  strongly  that  he  ought  to  go  down  to 
see  his  father  and  pay  his  duty  to  his  mother-in-law,  that 
lie  was  lost  in  astonishment  at  his  own  remissness  in 
never  thinking  of  this  moral  obligation  before.  Anxious 
to  atone  for  his  i)ast  neglect  witliout  another  hour's  de- 
lay, he  straightway  walked  up  stairs  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  requested  leave  of  absence  for  this  laudable  purpose. 

Certainly,  Sam,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  his 
eyes  glistening  with  delight  at  this  manifestation  of 
filial  feeling  on  the  part  of  his  attendant  ;  certainly, 
Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  made  a  grateful  bow. 


378  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  you  have  so  high  a  sense 
of  your  duties  as  a  son,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''I  always  had,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

^'That's  a  very  gratifying  reflection,  Sam,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  approvingly. 

Werry,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  ;  ''if  ever  I  wanted 
anythin'  o'  my  father,  I  always  asked  for  it  in  a  werry 
'spectf ul  and  obligin'  manner.  If  he  didn't  give  it  me, 
I  took  it,  for  fear  I  should  be  led  to  do  anythin'  wrong, 
through  not  having  it.  I  saved  him  a  world  of  trouble, 
this  way,  sir." 

"  That's  not  precisely  what  I  meant,  Sam,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  shaking  his  head,  with  a  slight  smile. 

''All  goodfeelin',  sir — the  very  best  intentions,  as  the 
gen'lm'n  said  ven  he  run  away  from  his  wife  'cos  she 
seemed  unhappy  with  him,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"You  may  go,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Thank'ee,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  and  having  made 
his  best  bow,  and  put  on  his  best  clothes,  Sam  planted 
himself  on  the  top  of  the  Arundel  coach,  and  journeyed 
on  to  Dorking. 

The  Marquis  of  Granby,  in  Mrs.  Weller's  time,  was 
quite  a  model  of  a  road-side  public-house  of  the  better 
class — just  large  enough  to  be  convenient,  and  small 
enough  to  be  snug. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  was  a  large  sign- 
board on  a  high  post,  representing  the  head  and  shoul- 
ders of  a  gentleman  with  an  apoplectic  countenance,  in  a 
red  coat  with  deep  blue  facings,  and  a  touch  of  the  same 
blue  over  his  three  cornered  hat,  for  a  sky.  Over  that, 
again,  were  a  pair  of  flags;  beneath  the  last  button  of 
his  coat  were  a  couple  of  cannon;  and  the  whole  formed 
an  expressive  and  undoubted  likeness  of  the  Marquis  of 
Granby  of  glorious  memory. 

The  bar  window  displayed  a  choice  collection  of  ge- 
jranium  plants,  and  a  well-dusted  row  of  spirit  phials. 
The  open  shutters  bore  a  variety  of  golden  inscriptions, 
eulogistic  of  good  beds  and  neat  wines;  and  the  choice 
group  of  countrymen  and  hostlers  lounging  about  the 
stable-door  and  horse  trough,  afforded  presumptive  proof 
of  the  excellent  quality  of  the  ale  and  spirits  wliich  were  ' 
sold  within.  Sam  Weller  paused,  when  he  dismounted 
from  the  coach,  to  note  all  these  little  indications  of  a 
thriving  business,  with  the  eye  of  an  experienced  trav- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUR 


379 


eller;  and  having  done  so,  stepped  in  at  once,  highly  sat- 
isfied with  everything  he  had  observed. 

'•Now,  then!"  said  a  shrill  female  voice,  the  instant 
Sam  thrust  in  his  head  at  the  door,  what  do  you  want, 
young  man?" 

Sam  looked  round  in  the  direction  whence  the  voice 
proceeded.  It  came  from  a  rather  stout  lady  of  com- 
fortable appearance,  who  was  seated  beside  the  fire-place 
in  the  bar,  blowing  the  fire  to  make  the  kettle  boil  for 
tea.  She  was  not  alone;  for  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire- 
place, sitting  bolt  upright  in  a  high-backed  chair,  was  a 
man  in  thread-bare  black  clothes,  with  a  back  almost  as 
long  and  stiff  as  that  of  the»  chair  itself,  who  caught 
Sam's  most  particular  and  especial  attention  at  once. 

He  was  a  prim-faced,  red-nosed  man,  with  a  long,  thin 
countenance  and  a  semi-rattlesnake  sort  of  eye — rather 
sharp,  but  decidedly  bad.  He  wore  very  short  trousers, 
and  black  cotton  stockings:  which,  like  the  rest  of  his 
apparel,  were  particularly  rusty.  His  looks  were 
starched,  but  his  white  neckerchief  was  not;  and  its 
long,  limp  ends  straggled  over  his  closely  buttoned  waist- 
coat in  a  very  uncouth  and  unpicturesque  fashion.  A 
pair  of  old,  worn,  beaver  gloves;  a  broad-brimmed  hat; 
and  a  faded  green  umbrella,  with  plenty  of  whalebone 
sticking  through  the  bottom,  as  if  to  counterbalance  the 
want  of  a  handle  at  the  top,  lay  on  a  chair  beside  him; 
and  being  disposed  in  a  very  tidy  and  careful  manner, 
seemed  to  imply  that  the  red-nosed  man,  whoever  he 
was,  had  no  intention  of  going  away  in  a  hurry. 

To  do  the  red-nosed  man  justice,  he  would  have  been 
very  far  from  wise  if  he  had  entertained  any  such  inten- 
tion; for,  to  judge  from  all  appearances,  he  must  have 
been  possessed  of  a  most  desirable  circle  of  acquaintance, 
if  he  could  have  reasonably  expected  to  be  more  com- 
fortable anywhere  else.  The  fire  was  blazing  brightly, 
under  the  influence  of  the  bellows;  and  the  kettle  was 
singing  gaily,  under  the  influence  of  both.  A  small  tray 
of  tea-things  was  arranged  on  the  table;  a  plate  of  hot 
buttered  toast  was  gently  simmering  before  the  fire;  and 
the  red-nosed  man  himself  was  busily  engaged  in  con- 
verting a  large  slice  of  bread  into  the  same  agreeable 
edible,  through  the  instrumentality  of  a  long  brass 
toasting-fork.  Beside  him,  stood  a  glass  of  reeking  hot 
pine-apple  rum  and  water,  with  a  slice  of  lemon  m  it; 


380  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  every  time  the  red-nosed  man  stopped  to  bring  the 
round  of  bread  to  his  eyes,  with  the  view  of  ascertain- 
ing how  it  got  on,  he  imbibed  a  drop  or  two  of  the  hot 
pine-apple  rum  and  water,  and  smiled  upon  the  rather 
stout  lady,  as  she  blew  the  fire. 

Saiji  was  so  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  this  comfort- 
able scene,  that  he  suffered  the  first  inquiry  of  the  rather 
stout  lady  to  pass  unheeded.  It  was  not  until  it  had 
been  twice  repeated,  each  time  in  a  shriller  tone, 
that  he  became  conscious  of  the  impropriety  of  his 
behavior. 

"  Governor  in?"  inquired  Sam,  in  reply  to  the  question. 

''No,  he  isn't,"  replied  "Mrs.  Weller,  for  the  rather 
stout  lady  was  no  other  than  the  quondam  relict  and 
sole  executrix  of  the  dead-and-gone  Mr.  Clarke;  ''no, 
he  isn't,  and  I  don't  expect  him,  either." 

"  I  suppose  he's  a  driven'  up  to-day?"  said  Sam. 

"He  may  be,  or  he  may  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Weller, 
buttering  the  round  of  toast  which  the  red-nosed  man 
had  just  finished.  "  I  don't  know,  and,  what's  more,  1 
don't  care.    Ask  a  blessing,  Mr.  Stiggins. 

The  red-nosed  man  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  in- 
stantly commenced  on  the  toast  with  fierce  voracity. 

The  appearance  of  the  red-nosed  man  had  induced 
Sam,  at  first  sight,  to  more  than  half  suspect  that  he 
was  the  deputy  shepherd,  of  whom  his  estimable  parent 
had  spoken.  The  moment  he  saw  him  eat,  all  doubt  on 
the  subject  was  removed,  and  he  perceived  at  once  that 
if  he  purposed  to  take  up  his  temporary  quarters  where 
he  was,  he  must  make  his  footing  good  without  delay. 
He  therefore  commenced  proceedings  by  putting  his 
arm  over  the  half-door  of  the  bar,  coolly  unbolting  it, 
and  leisurely  walking  in. 

"Mother-in-law,"  said  Sam,  "how  are  you?" 

"Why,  I  do  believe  he  is  a  Weller!"  said  Mrs.  W., 
raising  her  eyes  to  Sam's  face,  with  no  very  gratified 
expression  of  countenance. 

"I  rayther  think  he  is,"  said  the  imperturbable  Sam, 
"  and  I  hope  this  here  reverend  gen'lm'n  '11  excuse  me 
-  saying  that  I  wish  I  was  the  Weller  as  owns  you, 
mother-in-law." 

This  was  a  double-barrelled  compliment.  It  implied 
that  Mrs.  Weller  was  a  most  agreeable  female,  and  also 
that  Mr.  Stiggins  had  a  clerical  appearance.    It  made  a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  381 

visible  impression  at  once;  and  Sam  followed  his  ad- 
vantage by  kissing  his  mother-in-law. 

''Get  along  with  you/'  said  Mrs.  Weller,  pushing  him 
away. 

''For  shame,  young  man!"  said  the  gentleman  with 
the  red  nose. 

"No  offence,  sir,  no  offence/'  replied  Sam;  "you're 
worry  right;  though;  it  ain't  the  right  sort  o'  thing,  wen 
mothers-in-law  is  young  and  good-looking,  is  it,  sir." 

"  It's  all  vanity/'  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

"Ah,  so  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  setting  her  cap  to  rights. 

Sam  thought  it  was,  too,  but  he  held  his  peace. 

The  deputy  shepherd  seemed  by  no  means  best  pleased 
with  Sam's  arrival;  and  when  the  first  effervescence  of 
the  compliment  had  subsided,  even  Mrs.  Weller  looked 
as  if  she  could  have  spared  him  without  the  smallest  in- 
convenience. However,  there  he  was;  and  as  he  couldn't 
be  decently  turned  out,  they  all  three  sat  down  to  tea. 

"And  how's  father?"  said  Sam. 

At  this  inquiry,  Mrs.  Weller  raised  her  hands,  and 
turned  up  her  eyes,  as  if  the  subject  were  too  painful  to 
be  alluded  to. 

Mr.  Stiggins  groaned. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  'ere  gen'lm'n? "  said  Sam. 
"He's  shocked  at  the  way  your  father  goes  on,  in," 
replied  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Oh,  he  is,  is  he?"  said  Sam. 

"And  with  too  good  reason," added  Mrs.  Weller, 
gravely. 

Mr.  Stiggins  took  up  a  fresh  piece  of  toast,  and  groaned 
heavily! 

"  He  is  a  dreadful  reprobate,"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"A  man  of  wrath!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stiggins.  He 
took  a  large  semi-circular  bite  out  of  the  toast,  and 
groaned  again. 

Sam  felt  very  strongly  disposed  to  give  the  reverend 
Mr.  Stiggins  something  to  groan  for,  but  he  repressed 
his  inchnation,  and  merely  asked,  "  What's  the  old  'un 
up  to,  now?" 

"Up  to,  indeed!  "said  Mrs.  Weller;  "oh,  he  has  a 
hard  heart.  Night  after  night  does  this  excellent  man 
— don^t  frown,  Mr.  Stiggins  ;  I  will  say  you  are  an  ex- 
cellent man — come  and  sit  here,  for  hours  together,  and 
it  has  not  the  least  effect  upon  him." 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''Well,  that  is  odd,"  said  Sam;  ''it  'ud  have  a  werry 
considerable  effect  upon  me,  if  I  wos  in  his  place;  I 
know  that." 

"The  fact  is,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins, 
solemnly,  "he  has  an  obderrate  bosom.  Oh,  my  young 
friend,  who  else  could  have  resisted  the  pleading  of  six- 
teen of  our  fairest  sisters,  and  withstood  their  exhorta- 
tions to  subscribe  to  our  noble  society  for  providing  the 
infant  negroes  in  the  West  Indies  with  flannel  waist- 
coats and  moral  pocket  handkerchiefs?" 

"What's  a  moral  pocket  ankercher?"  said  Sam;  "I 
never  see  one  o'  them  articles  o'  furniter," 

"Those  which  combine  amusement  with  instruction, 
my  young  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins;  "blending 
select  tales  with  wood-cuts." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  said  Sam;  "them  as  hangs  up  in  the 
linen-drapers'  shops,  with  beggars'  petitions  and  all  that 
'ere  upon  'em?" 

Mr.  Stiggins  began  a  third  round  of  toast,  and  nodded 
assent. 

"And  he  wouldn't  be  persuaded  by  the  ladies, 
wouldn't  he?"  said  Sam. 

"  Sat  and  smoked  his  pipe,  and  said  the  infant  negroes 
were — what  did  he  say  the  infant  negroes  were?"  said 
Mrs.  Weller. 

"Little  humbugs,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  deeply  affected. 

"Said  the  infant  negroes  were  little  humbugs,"  re- 
peated Mrs.  Weller.  And  they  both  groaned  at  the 
atrocious  conduct  of  the  old  gentleman. 

A  great  many  more  iniquities  of  a  similar  nature 
might  have  been  disclosed,  only  the  toast  being  all 
eaten,  the  tea  having  got  very  weak,  and  Sam  holding 
out  no  invitations  of  meaning  to  go,  Mr.  Stiggins  sud- 
denly recollected  that  he  had  a  most  pressing  appoint- 
ment with  the  shepherd,  and  took  himself  off  accord- 
ingly. 

The  tea-things  had  been  scarcely  put  away,  and  the 
hearth  swept  up,  when  the  London  coach  deposited  Mr. 
Weller,  senior,  at  the  door;  his  legs  deposited  him  in  the 
bar;  and  his  eyes  showed  him  his  son. 

"What,  Sammy!"  exclaimed  the  father. 

"What,  old  Nobs!"  ejaculated  the  son.  And  they 
shook  hands  heartily. 

"Werry  glad  to  see  you,  Sammy,"  said  the  elder  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


383 


Weller,  though  how  youVe  managed  to  get  over  your 
mother-in-law  is  a  mystery  to  me.  I  only  vish  you'd 
write  me  out  the  receipt,  that's  all." 

'"Hush!"  said  Sam,    she's  at  home,  old  feller." 

''She  ain't  vithin  hearing,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  ''she 
always  goes  and  blows  up,  down  stairs,  for  a  couple  of 
hours  arter  tea;  so  we'll  just  give  ourselves  a  damp, 
Sammy." 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Weller  mixed  two  glasses  of  spirits 
and  water,  and  produced  a  couple  of  pipes.  The  father 
and  son  sitting  down  opposite  each  other — Sam  on  one 
side  of  the  fire,  in  a  high-backed  chair,  and  Mr.  Weller, 
seniorj  on  the  other,  in  an  easy  ditto — they  proceeded  to 
enjoy  themselves  with  all  due  gravity. 

"Anybody  been  here,  Sammy?"  asked  Mr.  Weller, 
senior,  drily,  after  a  long  silence. 

Sam  nodded  an  expressive  assent. 

"Red-nosed  chap?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  nodded  again. 

"Amiable  man  that  'ere,  Sammy,"  *said  Mr.  Weller, 
smoking  violently. 

"Seems  so,"  observed  Sam. 

"Good  hand  at  accounts,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"Is  he?"  said  Sam. 

"Borrows  eighteenpence  on  Monday,  and  comes  on 
Tuesday  for  a  shillin'  to  make  it  up  half  a  crown;  calls 
again  on  Vensday  for  another  half  crown  to  make  it 
five  shillin's;  and  goes  on,  doubling,  till  he  gets  it  up  to 
a  five  pund  note  in  no  time,  like  them  sums  in  the  'rith- 
metic  book  'bout  the  nails  in  the  horse's  shoes,  Sammy." 

Sam  intimated  by  a  nod  that  he  recollected  the  prob- 
lem alluded  to  by  his  parent. 

,  "  So  you  vouldn't  subscribe  to  the  flannel  veskits?" 
said  Sam,  after  another  interval  of  smoking. 

"  Cert'nly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  "what's  the  good 
o'  flannel  veskits  to  the  young  niggers  abroad?  But  I'll 
tell  you  what  it  is,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  lowering 
his  voice  and  bending  across  the  fire-place:  "I'd  come 
down  werry  handsome  towards  straight  veskits  for 
some  people  at  home." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  he  slowly  recovered  his 
former  position,  and  winked  at  his  first-born,  in  a  pro- 
found manner. 

"It  cert'nly  seems  a  queer  start  to  send  out  pocket 


384  POSTHUMOUS  PAPEBS  OF 


ankerchers  to  people  as  don't  know  the  use  on  'em,"  ob- 
served Sam. 

They're  alvays  a  doin'  some  gammon  of  that  sort, 
Sammy,"  replied  the  father.  'Tother  Sunday  I  wos 
walkin'  up  the  road,  wen  who  should  I  see,  a  standin  at 
a  chapel-door,  with  a  blue  soup-plate  in  her  hand,  but 
your  mother-in-law!  I  werily  believe  there  was  change 
for  a  couple  o'  suv'rins  in  it  then,  Sammy,  all  in  ha'pence; 
and  as  the  people  come  out,  they  rattled  the  pennies  in, 
till  you'd  ha'  thought  that  no  mortal  plate  as  ever  was 
baked  could  ha'  stood  the  wear  and  tear.  What  d'ye 
.    think  it  was  all  for?" 

•'For  another  tea-drinkin',  perhaps,"  said  Sam. 

''Not  a  bit  on  it,"  replied  the  father;  "for  the  shep- 
herd's water-rate,  Sammy." 

"The  shepherd's  water-rate!"  said  Sam. 

"Ay,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "there  was  three  quarters 
owin',  and  the  shepherd  hadn't  paid  a  farden,  not  he — 
perhaps  it  might  be  on  account  that  water  warn't  o'  so 
much  use  to  him,  for  it's  werry  little  o'  that  tap  he 
drinks,  Sammy,  wei*ry;  he  knows  a  trick  worth  a  good 
half-dozen  o'-that,  he  does.  Hows'ever,  it  warn't  paid, 
so  they  cuts  the  water  off.  Down  goes  the  shepherd  to 
chapel,  gives  out  as  he's  a  persecuted  saint,  and  says  he 
hopes  the  heart  of  the  turncock  as  cut  tiie  water  off  '11 
be  softened,  and  turned  in  the  right  vay;  but  he  rayther 
thinks  he's  booked  for  somethin'  uncomfortable.  Upon 
this,  the  women  calls  a  meetin',  sings  a  hymn,  wotes 
your  mother-in-lav^^  into  the  chair,  wolunteers  a  collec- 
tion next  Sunday,  and  hands  it  all  over  to  the  shepherd. 
And  if  he  ain't  got  enough  out  on  'em,  Sammy,  to  make 
him  free  of  the  water  company  for  life,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
in  conchision,  "  I'm  one  Dutchman,  and  you're  another, 
and  that's  all  about  it." 

Mr.  Weller  smoked  for  some  minutes  in  silence,  and 
then  resumed: 

"  The  worst  o'  these  here  shepherds  is,  my  boy,  that 
they  reg'larly  turns  the  heads  of  all  the  young  ladies 
about  here.  Lord  bless  their  little  hearts,  they  thinks 
it's  all  right,  and  don't  know  no  better;  but  they're  the 
wictims  o'  gammon,  Samivel,  they're  the  wictims  o' 
gammon." 

"  I  s'pose  they  are,"  said  Sam. 

"Nothin'  else,"  said  Mr,  Weller^  shaking  his  head 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


385 


gravely:  and  wot  aggrawates  me,  Samivel,  is  to  see  'em 
a  wastin'  all  their  time  and  labour  in  making  clothes  for 
copper-coloured  people  as  don't  want  'em,  and  takin'  no 
notice  of  the  flesh-coloured  Christians  as  do.  If  I'd  my 
vay,  Samivel,  I'd  just  stick  some  o'  these  here  lazy 
shepherds  behind  a  heavy  wheel-barrow,  and  run  'em  up 
and  down  a  fourteen-inch-wide  plank  all  day.  That  'ud 
shake  the  nonsense  out  of  'em,  if  anythin'  vould." 

Mr.  Weller  having  delivered  this  gentle  recipe  with 
strong  emphasis,  eked  out  by  a  variety  of  nods  and  con- 
tortions of  the  eye,  emptied  his  glass  at  a  draught,  and 
knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  with  native  dignity. 

He  was  engaged  in  this  operation,  when  a  shrill  voice 
was  heard  in  the  passage. 

Here's  your  dear  relation,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller; 
and  Mrs.  W.  hurried  into  the  room. 

Oh,  you've  come  back,  have  you! "  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

''Yes,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  filling  a  fresh 
pipe. 

Has  Mr.  Stiggins  been  back?"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

''No,  my  dear,  he  hasn't,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  light- 
ing the  pipe  by  the  ingenious  process  of  holding  to  the 
bowl  thereof,  between  the  tongs,  a  red-hot  coal  from  the 
adjacent  fire;  "and  what's  more,  my  dear,  I  shall 
manage  to  surwive  it,  if  he  don't  come  back  at  all." 

"  Ugh,  you  w^retch! "  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Thank'ee,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Come,  come,  father,"  said  Sam,  "  none  o'  these  little 
levin's  afore  strangers.  Here's  the  reverend  gen'lm'n  a 
comin'  in  now." 

At  this  announcement,  Mrs.  Weller  hastily  wiped  off 
the  tears  which  she  had  just  begun  to  force  on;  and  Mr. 
W.  drew  his  chair  sullenly  into  the  chimney  corner. 

Mr.  Stiggins  was  easily  prevailed  on  to  take  another 
glass  of  the  hot  pine-apple  rum  and  water,  and  a  second, 
and  a  third,  and  then  to  refresh  himself  with  a  slight 
supper,  previous  to  beginning  again.  He  sat  on  the 
same  side  as  Mr.  Weller,  senior;  and  every  time  he  could 
contrive  to  do  so,  unseen  by  his  wife,  that  gentleman 
indicated  to  his  son  the  hidden  emotions  of  his  bosom  by 
shaking  his  fist  over  the  deputy  shepherd's  head:  a  pro- 
cess which  afforded  his  son  the  most  unmingled  delight 
and  satisfaction:  the  more  especially  as  Mr.  Stiggins 
went  on  quietly  drinking  the  hot  pine-apple  rum 


386  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  water,  wholly  unconscious  of  what  was  going  for- 
ward. 

The  major  part  of  the  conversation  was  confined  to 
Mrs.  Weller  and  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins;  and  the 
topics  principally  descanted  on  were  the  virtues  of  the 
shepherd,  the  worthiness  of  his  flock,  and  the  high 
crimes  and  misdemeanors  of  everybody  beside;  disserta- 
tions which  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  occasionally  interrupted 
by  half-suppressed  references  to  a  gentleman  by  -the 
name  of  Walker,  and  other  running  commentaries  of 
the  same  kind. 

At  length  Mr.  Stiggins,  with  several  most  indubitable 
symptoms  of  having  quite  as  much  pine-apple  rum  and 
water  about  him  as  he  could  comfortably  accommodate, 
took  his  hat  and  his  leave:  and  Sam  was,  immediately 
afterwards,  shown  to  bed  by  his  father.  The  respectable 
old  gentleman  wrung  his  hand  fervently,  and  seemed 
disposed  to  address  some  observation  to  his  son;  but  on 
Mrs.  Weller  advancing  towards  him,  he  appeared  to  re- 
linquish that  intention,  and  abruptly  bade  him  good 
night. 

Sam  was  up  betimes  next  day,  and  having  partaken 
of'  a  hasty  breakfast,  prepared  to  return  to  London.  He 
had  scarcely  set  foot  without  the  house,  when  his  father 
stood  before  him. 

^'Goin',  Sammy?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Off  at  once,"  replied  Sam. 

^'  I  vish  you  could  muffle  that  'ere  Stiggins  and  take 
him  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

•'I  am  ashamed  on  you!"  said  Sam,  reproachfully; 
"  what  do  you  let  him  show  his  red  nose  in  the  Markis  o' 
Granby  at  all  for?" 

Mr.  Weller  the  elder  fixed  on  his  son  an  earnest  look, 
and  replied,  "  'Cause  I'm  a  married  man,  Samivel,  'cause 
I'm  a  married  man.  Wen  you're  a  married  man,  Sami- 
vel, you'll  understand  a  good  many  things  as  you  don't 
understand  now;  but  vether  it's  worth  while  goin' 
through  so  much,  to  learn  so  little,  as  the  charity-boy 
said  ven  he  got  to  the  end  of  the  alphabet,  is  a  matter  o' 
taste.    I  rayther  think  it  isn't." 

"  Well,"  said  Sam,  "  good  bye." 

^^Tar,  tar,  Sammy,"  replied  his  father. 
I've  only  got  to  say  this  here,"  said  Sam,  stopping 
short,  ''that If  I  was  the  proprietor  o'  the  Markis  o' 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  387 

Granby,  and  that  'ere  Stiggins  came  and  made  toast  in 
my  bar,  I'd — " 

''What?"  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  with  great  anxiety. 
''What?" 

" — Pison  his  rum  and  water,"  said  Sam. 

"  No!"  said  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his  son  eagerly  by  the 
hand,  "would  you  raly,  Sammy;  would  you,  though?" 

" I  would,"  said  Sam.  "I  wouldn't  be  too  hard  upon 
him,  at  first.  I'd  drop  him  in  the  water-butt,  and  put 
the  lid  on;  and  if  I  found  he  was  insensible  to  kindness, 
I'd  try  the  other  persvation." 

The*^  elder  Mr.  Weller  bestowed  a  look  of  deep,  un- 
speakable admiration  on  his  son;  and,  having  once  more 
grasped  his  hand,  walked  slowly  away,  revolving  in  his 
mind  the  numerous  reflections  to  which  his  advice  had 
given  rise. 

Sam  looked  after  him,  until  he  turned  a  corner  of  the 
road:  and  then  set  forward  on  his  walk  to  London.  He 
meditated,  at  first,  on  the  probable  consequences  of  his 
own  advice,  a<nd  the  likelihood  and  unlikelihood  of  his 
father's  adopting  it.  He  dismissed  the  subject  from  his 
mind,  however,  with  the  consolatory  reflection  that  time 
alone  would  show;  and  this  is  the  reflection  we  would 
impress  upon  the  reader. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  GOOD-HUMOURED  CHRISTMAS  CHAPTER,  CONTAINING  AN 
ACCOUNT  OF  A  W^EDDING,  AND  SOME  OTHER  SPORTS  BE- 
SIDES: WHICH  ALTHOUGH  IN  THEIR  WAY  EVEN  AS  GOOD 
CUSTOMS  AS  MARRIAGE  ITSELF,  ARE  NOT  QUITE  SO  RE- 
LIGIOUSLY KEPT  UP  IN  THESE  DEGENERATE  TIMES. 

As  brisk  as  bees,  if  not  altogether  as  light  as  fairies, 
did  the  four  Pickwickians  assemble  on  the  morning  of 
the  twenty-second  daj^  of  December,  in  the  year  of  grace 
in  which  these,  their  faithfully-recorded  adventures, 
were  undertaken  and  accomplished.  Christmas  was 
close  at  hand,  in  all  his  bluff  and  hearty  honesty;  it  was 
the  season  of  hospitality,  merriment  and  open-hearted- 
ness;  the  old  year  was  preparing,  like  an  ancient  phil- 
osopher, to  call  his  friends  around  him,  and  amidst  the 


m 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


sound  of  feasting  and  revelry  to  pass  gently  and  calmly 
away.  Gay  and  merry  was  the  .time;  and  right  gay  and 
merry  were  at  least  four  of  the  numerous  hearts  that 
were  gladdened  by  its  coming. 

And  numerous  indeed  are  the  hearts  to  which  Christ- 
mas brings  a  brief  season  of  happiness  and  enjoyment. 
How  many  families  whose  members  have  been  dispersed 
and  scattered,  far  and  wide,  in  the  restless  struggles  of 
life,  are  then  reunited,  and  meet  once  again  in  that 
happy  state  of  companionship,  and  mutual  good-will, 
which  is  a  source  of  such  pure  and  unalloyed  delight, 
and  one  so  incompatible  with  the  cares  and  sorrows  of 
the  world,  that  the  religious  belief  of  the  most  civilized 
nations,  and  the  rude  traditions  of  the  roughest  savages, 
alike  number  it  among  the  first  joys  of  a  future  condi- 
tion of  existence,  provided  for  the  blest  and  happy!  How 
many  old  recollections,  and  how  many  dormant  sympa- 
thies, does  Christmas  time  awaken  ? 

We  write  these  words  now,  many  miles  distant  from 
the  spot  at  which,  year  after  year,  we  met  on  that  day 
a  merry  and  joyous  circle.  Many  of  the  hearts  that 
throbbed  so  gaily  then,  have  ceased  to  beat;  many  of  the 
looks  that  shone  so  brightly  then,  have  ceased  to  glow; 
the  hands  we  grasped  have  grown  cold;  the  eyes  we 
sought  have  hid  their  lustre  in  the  grave;  and  yet  the 
old  house,  the  room,  the  merry  voices  and  smiling  faces, 
the  jest,  the  laugh,  the  most  minute  and  trivial 
circumstances  connected  with  those  happy  meetings, 
crowd  upon  our  mind  at  each  recurrence  of  the  season, 
as  if  the  last  assemblage  had  been  but  yesterday!  Happy, 
happy  Christmas,  that  can  win  us  back  to  the  delusions 
of  our  childish  days;  that  can  recall  to  the  old  man  the 
pleasures  of  his  youth;  and  transport  the  sailor  and  the 
traveller,  thousands  of  miles  away,  back  to  his  own  fire- 
side and  his  quiet  home! 

But  we  are  so  taken  up,  and  occupied,  with  the  good 
qualities  of  this  Saint  Christmas,  that  we  are  keeping 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  waiting  in  the  cold,  on  the 
outside  of  the  Muggleton  coach:  which  they  have  just 
attained,  well  wrapped  up  in  great  coats,  shawls,  and 
comforters.  The  portmanteaus  and  carpet-bags  have 
been  stowed  away,  and  Mr.  Weller  and  the  guard  are 
endeavouring  to  insinuate  into  the  fore-boot  a  huge  cod- 
fish several  sizes  too  large  for  it:  which  is  snugly 


THfi  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


389 


packed  up,  in  a  long  brown  basket,  with  a  layer  of  stravs- 
over  the  top :  and  which  has  been  left  to  the  last,  in  or- 
der that  he  may  repose  in  safety  on  the  half-dozen  bar- 
rels of  real  native  oysters,  all  the  property  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, which  have  been  arranged  in  regular  order 
the  bottom  of  the  receptacle.  The  interest  displayed  in 
Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  is  most  intense,  as  Mr. 
Weller  and  the  guard  try  to  squeeze  the  cod-fish 
into  the  boot,  first  head  first,  and  then  tail  first,  and 
then  top  upwards,  and  then  bottom  upwards,  and 
then  side-ways,  and  then  long-ways,  all  of  which 
artifices  the  implacable  cod-fish  sturdily  resists,  until 
the  guard  accidentally  hits  him  in  the  very  middle 
of  the  basket,  whereupon  he  suddenly  disappears  into 
the  boot,  and  with  him'  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the 
guard  himself,  who,  not  calculating  upon  so  sudden  a 
cessation  of  the  passive  resistance  of  the  cod-fish,  ex- 
periences a  very  unexpected  shock,  to  the  unsmother- 
able  delight  of  all  the  porters  and  by-standers.  Upon 
this,  Mr.  Pickwick  smiles  with  great  good-humour,  and 
drawing  a  shilling  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  begs  the 
guard,  as  he  picks  himself  out  of  the  boot,  to  drink  his 
health  in  a  glass  of  hot  brandy  and  water;  at  which,  the 
guard  smiles,  too,  and  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Winkle,  and 
Tupman,  all  smile  in  company.  The  guard  and  Mr. 
Weller  disappear  for  five  minutes:  most  probably  to  get 
the  hot  brandy  and  water,  for  they  smell  very  strongly 
of  it  when  they  return:  the  coachman  mounts  to  the 
box,  Mr.  Weller  jumps  up  behind,  the  Pickwickians 
pull  their  coats  round  their  legs,  and  their  shawls  over 
their  noses;  the  helpers  pull  the  horse-cloths  off,  the 
coachman  shouts  out  a  cheery  All  right,"  and  away 
they  go. 

They  have  rumbled  through  the  streets,  and  jolted  ovei 
the  stones,  and  at  length  reach  the  wide  and  opei. 
country.  The  wheels  skim  over  the  hard  and  frost} 
ground:  and  the  horses  bursting  into  a  canter  at  a  smart 
crack  of  the  whip,  step  along  the  road,  as  if  the  load 
behind  them:  coach  passengers,  cod-fish,  oyster  barrels, 
and  all:  were  but  a  feather  at  their  heels.  They  have 
descended  a  gentle  slope,  and  enter  upon  a  level,  as 
compact  and  dry  as  a  solid  block  of  marble,  two  miles 
long.  Another  crack  of  the  whip,  and  on  they  speed, 
at  a  smart  gallop;  the  horses  tossing  their  heads  and 


390 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


rattling  the  harness,  as  if  in  exhilaration  at  the  rapidity 
of  the  motion;  while  the  coachnian,  holding  whip  and 
reins  in  one  hand,  takes  off  his  hat  with  the  other,  and 
resting  it  on  his  knees,  pulls  out  his  handkerchief,  and 
wipes  his  forehead:  partly  because  he  has  a  habit  of 
doing  it,  and  partly  because  it's  as  well  to  show  the  pas- 
sengers how  cool  he  is,  and  what  an  easy  thing  it  is  to 
drive  four-in-hand,  when  you  have  had  as  much  prac- 
tice as  he  has.  Having  done  this  very  leisurely  (other- 
wise the  effect  would  be  materially  impaired),  he  re- 
places his  handkerchief,  pulls  on  his  hat,  adjusts  his 
gloves,  squares  his  elbows,  cracks  the  whip  again,  and 
on  they  speed,  more  merrily  than  before. 

A  few  small  houses,  scattered  on  either  side  of  the 
road,  betoken  the  entrance  to  -some  town  or  village. 
The  lively  notes  of  the  guard's  key-bugle  vibrate  in  the 
clear,  cold  air,  and  wake  up  the  old  gentleman  inside, 
who,  carefully  letting  down  the  window-sash  half-way, 
and  sta.nding  sentry  over  the  air,  takes  a  short  peep  out, 
and  then  caref  ully  pulling  it  up  again,  informs  the  other 
inside  that  they're  going  to  change  directly;  on  w^hich 
the  other  inside  wakes  himself  up,  and  determines  to 
postpone  his  next  nap  until  after  the  stoppage.  Again 
the  bugle  sounds  lustily  forth,  and  rouses  thecottager's 
wife  and  children,  who  peep  out  at  the  house-door,  and 
watch  the  coach  till  it  turns  the  corner,  w^hen  they  once 
more  crouch  round  the  blazing  fire,  and  throw  on  an- 
other log  of  vs^ood  against  father  comes  home,  while 
father  himself,  a  full  mile  off*,  has  just  exchanged  a 
friendly  nod  with  the  coachman,  and  turned  round  to 
take  a  good  long  stare  at  the  vehicle  as  it  whirls  away. 

And  now  the  bugle  plays  a  lively  air  as  the  coach  rattles 
through  the  ill-paved  streets  of  a  country  town;  and  the 
coachman,  undoing  the  buckle  which  keeps  his  ribands 
together,  prepares  to  throw  them  oft'  the  moment  ho 
stops.  Mr  Pickwick  emerges  from  his  coat  collar  and 
looks  about  him  with  great  curiosity;  perceiving  which 
the  coachman  informs  Mr.  Pickwick  of  the  name  of  the 
town,  and  tells  him  it  was  market-day  yesterday,  both 
of  which  pieces  of  information  Mr.  Pickwick  retails  to 
his  fellow-passengers;  whereupon  they  emerge  from 
their  coat  collars  too,  and  look  about  them  also.  Mr. 
Winkle,  who  sits  at  the  extreme  edge,  with  one  leg 
dangling  in  the  air,  is  nearly  precipitated  into  the  street, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


391 


as  the  coach  twists  round  the  sharp  corner  by  the  cheese- 
monger's shop,  and  turns  into  the  market-place ;  and 
before  Mr.  Snodgrass,  v/ho  sits  next  to  him,  has  re- 
covered from  his  alarm,  they  pull  up  at  the  inn-yard, 
where  the  fresh  horses,  w4th  cloths  on,  are  already  wait- 
ing. The  coachman  throws  down  the  reins  and  gets 
down  himself,  and  the  other  outside  passengers  drop 
down  also:  except  those  who  have  no  great  confidence 
in  their  ability  to  get  up  again:  and  they  remain  where 
they  are,  and  stamp  their  feet  against  the  coach  to  warm 
them — looking,  with  longing  eyes  and  red  noses,  at  the 
bright  fire  in  the  inn  bar,  and  the  sprigs  of  holly  with 
red  berries  which  ornament  the  window. 

But  the  guard  has  delivered  at  the  corn-dealer's  shop 
the  brown  paper  packet  he  took  out  of  the  little  pouch 
which  hangs  over  his  shoulder  by  a  leathern  strap;  and 
has  seen  the  horses  carefully  put  to  ;  and  has  thrown 
on  the  pavement  the  saddle  which  was  brought 
from  London  on  the  coach-roof;  and  has  assisted 
in  the  conference  between  the  coachman  and  the  hostler 
about  the  grey  mare  that  hurt  her  off-fore-leg  last  Tues- 
day; and  he  and  Mr.  Weller  are  all  right  behind,  and 
the  coachman  is  all  right  in  front,  and  the  old  gentle- 
man inside,  who  has  kept  the  window  down  full  two 
inches  all  this  time,  has  pulled  it  up  again,  and  the  cloths 
are  off,  and  they  are  all  ready  for  starting,  except  the 
''two  stout  gentlemen,'' whom  the  coachman  inquires 
after  with  some  impatience.  Hereupon  the  coachman 
and  the  guard,  and  Sam  Weller,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  and  all  the  hostlers,  and  every  one  of  the 
idlers,  who  are  more  in  number  than  all  the  others  put 
together,  shout  for  the  missing  gentlemen  as  loud  as 
they  can  bawl.  A  distant  response  is  heard  from  the 
yard,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman  come  running 
down  it,  quite  out  of  breath,  for  they  have  been  having 
a  glass  of  ale  apiece,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  fingers  are  so 
cold  that  he  has  been  full  five  minutes  before  he  could 
find  the  sixpence  to  pay  for  it.  The  coaclmian  shouts 
an  admonitory  ''Now  then,  gen'lm'n  !"  the  guard  re- 
echoes it;  the  old  gentleman  inside  thinks  it  a  very  ex- 
traordinary thing  that  people  will  get  down  when  they 
know  there  isn't  time  for  it;  Mr.  Pickwick  struggles  up 
on  one  side;  and  Mr  Tupman  on  the  other;  Mr.  Winkle 
cries  "All  right;"  and  off  they  start.    Shawls  are  pulled 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

up,  coat  collars  are  re-adjusted,  the  pavement  ceases,  the 
houses  disappear;  and  they  are  once  again  dashing 
along  the  open  road,  with  the  fresh,  clear  air  blowing  in 
their  faces,  and  gladdening  their  very  hearts  within 
them. 

Such  was  the  progress  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends 
by  the  Muggleton  Telegraph  on  their  way  to  Dingley 
"Dell;  and  at  three  o'clock  that  aftenoon  they  all  stood 
high  and  dry,  safe  and  sound,  hale  and  hearty,  upon 
the  steps  of  the  Blue  Lion:  having  taken  on  the  road 
quite  enough  of  ale  and  brandy  to  enable  them  to  bid 
defiance  to  the  frost  that  was  binding  up  the  earth  in 
its  iron  fetters,  and  weaving  its  beautiful  net-work  upon 
the  trees  and  hedges.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  counting  the  barrels  of  oysters,  and  superin- 
tending the  disinterment  of  the  cod-fish,  when  he  felt 
himself  gently  pulled  by  the  skirts  of  the  coat.  Look- 
ing round,  he  discovered  that  the  individual  who  re- 
sorted to  this  mode  of  catching  his  attention  was  no 
other  than  Mr.  Wardle's  favourite  page:  better  known 
to  the  readers  of  this  unvarnished  history  by  the  dis- 
tinguishing appellation  of  the  fat  boy. 
Aha  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Aha  !  "  said  the  fat  boy. 

As  he  said  it  he  glanced  from  the  cod-fish  to  the 
oyster-barrels,  and  chuckled  joyously.  He  was  fatter 
than  ever. 

Well,  you  look  rosy  enough,  my  young  friend  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

Pve  been  asleep,  right  in  front  of  the  tap-room  fire," 
replied  the  fat  boy,  who  had  heated  himself  to  the 
colour  of  a  new  chimney-pot,  in  the  course  of  an  hour's 
nap.  ^'Master  sent  me  over  with  the  shay-cart,  to 
carry  your  luggage  up  to  the  house.  He'd  ha'  sent 
some  saddle  horses,  but  he  thought  you'd  rather  walk; 
being  a  cold  day. 

''Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily,  for  he  remem- 
bered how  they  had  travelled  over  nearly  the  same 
ground  on  a  previous  occasion.  "  Yes,  we  would  rather 
walk.    Here,  Sam!" 

''Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"Help  Mr.  Wardle's  servant  to  put  the  packages  into 
the  cart,  and  then  ride  on  with  him.  We  will  walk  for- 
ward at  once." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


393 


Having  given  this  direction,  and  settled  with  the 
coachman,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  friends  struck 
into  the  footpath  across  the  fields,  and  walked  briskly 
away:  leaving  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy  confronted 
together  for  the  first  time.  Sam  looked  at  the  fat  boy 
with  great  astonishment,  but  without  saying  a  word, 
and  began  to  stow  the  luggage  rapidly  away  in  the  cart, 
while  the  fat  boy  stood  quietly  by,  and  seemed  to  think 
it  a  very  interesting  sort  of  thing  to  see  Mr.  Weller  work- 
ing by  himself. 

There,"  said  Sam,  throwing  in  the  last  carpet-bag, 

there  they  are!" 
Yes,"  said  the  fat  boy,  in  a  very  satisfied  tone,  there 
they  are." 

"•Veil,  young  twenty  stun,"  said  Sam,    you're  a  nice 
specimen  of  a  prize  boy,  vou  are!" 
Thank'ee,"  said  the  fat  boy. 
'"  You  ain't  got  nothin'  on  your  mind  as  makes  you 
fret  yourself,  have  you?"  inquired  Sam. 
Not  as  I  knows  on,"  replied  the  boy. 
*''I  should  rayther  ha' thought,  to  look  at  you,  that 
you  was  a  labourin'  under  an  unrequited  attachment  to 
some  young  'ooman,"  said  Sam. 
The  fat  boy  shook  his  head. 
Vel,"  said  Sam,  "Tm  glad  to  hear  it.    Do  you  ever 
drink  any  thin'?" 

I  likes  eating  better,"  replied  the  boy. 
Ah,"  said  Sam,  -'I  should  ha'  s'posed  that;  but  what 
I  mean  is,  should  you  like  a  droj)  of  anythin'  as'd  warm 
you?  but  I  s'pose  you  never  was  cold,  with  all  them 
elastic  fixtures,  was  you?" 

''Sometimes,"  replied  the  boy;  "and  I  likes  a  drop  of 
something,  when  it's  good." 

'"Oh,  you  do,  do  you?"  said  Sam;  "come  this  way, 
then!" 

The  Blue  Lion  tap  was  soon  gained,  and  the  fat  boy 
swallowed  a  glass  of  liquor  without  so  much  as  wink- 
ing; a  feat  which  considerably  advanced  him  in  Mr. 
Weller's  good  opinion.  Mr.  Weller  having  transacted 
a  similar  piece  of  business  on  his  own  account,  they  got 
into  the  cart. 

"  Can  you  drive?"  said  the  fat  boy. 

"I  should  rayther  think  so,"  replied  Sam. 

''There,  then,"  said  the  fat  boy,  putting  the  reinn  in 


394 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


his  hand,  and  pointing  up  the  lane.  It's  as  straight  as 
you  can  go;  you  can't  miss  it." 

With  these  words,  the  fat  boy  laid  himself  affection- 
ately down  by  the  side  of  the  cod-fish:  and  placing  an 
oyster-barrel  under  his  head  for  a  pillow,  fell  asleep 
instantaneously. 

Well,"  said  Sam,  of  all  the  cool  boys  ever  I  set  my 
eyes  on,  this  here  young  gen'lm'n  is  the  coolest.  Come, 
wake  up,  young  dropsy !" 

But  as  young  dropsy  evinced  no  symptoms  of  return- 
ing animation,  Sam  Weller  set  himself  down  in  front  of 
the  cart,  and  starting  the  old  horse  with  a  jerk  of  the 
rein,  jogged  steadily  on  towards  Manor  Farm. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  having 
walked  their  blood  into  active  circulation,  proceeded 
cheerfully  on.  The  paths  were  hard;  the  grass  was 
crisp  and  frosty;  the  air  had  a  fine,  dry,  bracing  cold- 
ness; and  the  rapid  approach  of  the  grey  twilight  (slate- 
coloured  is  a  better  term  in  frosty  weather)  made  them 
look  forward  with  pleasant  anticipation  to  the  comforts 
which  awaited  them  at  their  hospitable  entertainer's. 
It  was  the  sort  of  afternoon  that  might  induce  a  couple 
of  elderly  gentlemen,  in  a  lonely  field,  to  take  off  their 
great-coats  and  play  at  leap-frog  in  pure  lightness  of 
heart  and  gaiety:  and  we  firmly  believe  that  had  Mr.  Tup- 
man  at  that  moment  proffered  "  a  back,"  Mr.  Pickwick 
would  have  accepted  his  offer  with  the  utmost  avidity. 

However,  Mr.  Tupman  did  not  volunteer  any  such  ac- 
commodation, and  the  friends  walked  on,  conversing 
merrily.  As  they  turned  into  a  lane  they  had  to  cross, 
the  sound  of  many  voices  burst  upon  their  ears;  and  be- 
fore they  had  even  had  time  to  form  a  guess  as  to  whom 
they  belonged,  they  walked  into  the  very  centre  of  the 
party  who  were  expecting  their  arrival — a  fact  which 
was  first  notified  to  the  Pickwickians  by  the  loud  "  Hur- 
rah!" which  burst  from  old  Wardle's  lips,  when  they 
appeared  in  sight. 

First,  there  was  Wardle  himself,  looking,  if  possible, 
more  jolly  than  ever;  then  there  were  Bella  and  her 
faithful  Trundle;  and,  lastly,  there  were  Emily  and  some 
eight  or  ten  young  ladies,  who  had  all  come  down  to  the 
wedding,  which  was  to  take  place  next  day,  and  who 
were  in  as  happy  and  important  a  state  as  young  ladies 
usually  are  on  such  momentous  occasions;  and  they 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


395 


were,  one  and  all,  startling  the  fields  and  lanes,  far  and 
wide,  with  their  frolic  and  laughter. 

The  ceremony  of  introduction,  under  such  circum- 
stances, was  very  soon  performed,  or  we  should  rather 
say,  that  the  introduction  was  soon  over,  without  any 
ceremony  at  all;  and  in.  two  minutes  thereafter  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  joking  with  the  young  ladies  who  wouldn't 
come  over  the  stile  while  he  looked:  or  who,  having 
pretty  feet  and  unexceptionable  ankles,  preferred  stand- 
ing on  the  top  rail  for  five  minutes  or  so,  declaring  that 
they  were  too  frightened  to  move :  with  as  much  ease  and 
absence  of  reserve  or  constraint,  as  if  he  had  known 
them  for  life.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  too,  that  Mr. 
Snodgrass  offered  Emily  far  more  assistance  than  the 
absolute  terrors  of  the  stile  (although  it  was  full  three 
feet  high,  and  had  only  a  couple  of  stepping-stones) 
would  seem  to  require;  while  one  black-eyed  young  lady 
in  a  nice  little  pair  of  boots  with  fur  round  the  top,  was 
observed  to  scream  very  loudly,  when  Mr.  Winkle  of- 
fered to  help  her  over. 

All  this  was  very  snug  and  pleasant;  and  when  the 
difficulties  of  the  stile  were  at  last  surmounted,  and 
they  once  more  entered  on-  the  open  field,  old  Wardle 
informed  Mr.  Pickwick  how  they  had  all  been  down  in 
a  body  to  inspect  the  furniture  and  fittings-up  of  the 
house  which  the  young  couple  were  to  tenant  after  the  . 
Christmas  holidays;  at  which  communication  Bella  and 
Trundle  both  coloured  up,  as  red  as  the  fat  boy  after  the 
tap-room  fire;  and  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes, 
and  the  fur  round  the  boots,  whispered  something  in 
Emily's  ear,  and  then  glanced  archly  at  Mr.  Snodgrass; 
to  which  Emily  responded  that  she  was  a  foolish  girl, 
but  turned  very  red,  notwithstanding:  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, who  was  as  modest  as  all  great  geniuses 
usually  are,  felt  the  crimson  rising  to  the  crown  of  his 
head,  and  devoutly  wished,  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  his 
own  heart,  that  the  young  lady  aforesaid,  with  her  black 
eyes,  and  her  archness,  and  her  boots  with  the  fur  round 
the  top,  were  all  comfortably  deposited  in  the  adja- 
cent county. 

But  if  they  were  social  and  happy  outside  the  house, 
what  was  the  warmth  and  cordiality  of  their  reception 
when  they  reached  the  farm  !  The  very  servants  grinned 
with  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  Emma 


J96  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


bestowed  a  half -demure,  half -impudent,  and  all  pretty 
look  of  recognition  on  Mr.  Tupman,  which  was  enough 
to  make  the  statue  of  Bonaparte  in  the  passage  unfold 
his  arms  and  clasp  her  within  them. 

The  old  lady  was  seated  in  customary  state  in  the 
front  parlor,  but  she  was  rather  cross,  and,  by  conse- 
quence, most  particularly  d'eaf.  She  never  went  out 
herself,  and,  like  a  great  many  other  old  ladies  of  the 
same  stamp,  she  was  apt  to  consider  it  an  act  of  domestic 
treason,  if  anybody  else  took  the  liberty  of  doing  what 
she  couldn't.  So,  bless  her  old  soul,  she  sat  as  upright 
as  she  could  in  her  great  chair,  and  looked  as  fierce  as 
might  be — and  that  was  benevolent  after  all. 

^'Mother,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  ''Mr.  Pickwick.  You 
recollect  him." 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  the  old  lady,  with  great  dignity. 
''Don't  trouble  Mr.  Pickwick  about  an  old  creetur  like 
me.  Nobody  cares  about  me  now,  and  it's  very  nat'ral 
they  shouldn't."  Here  the  old  lady  tossed  her  head,  and 
smoothed  down  her  lavender-coloured  silk  dress,  with 
trembling  hands. 

"Come,  come,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  can't 
let  you  cut  an  old  friend  in  this  way.  I  have  come 
down  expressly  to  have  a  long  talk,  and  another  rubber 
with  you,  and  we'll  show  these  boys  and  girls  how  to 
dance  a  minuet  before  they're  eight-and-forty  hours 
older." 

The  old  lady  was  rapidly  giving  way,  but  she  did  not 
like  to  do  it  all  at  once;  so  she  only  said,  "Ah  !  I  can't 
hear  him." 

"Nonsense,  mother,"  said  Wardle.  "Come,  come, 
don't  be  cross,  there's  a  good  soul.  Recollect  Bella;  come, 
you  must  keep  her  spirits  up,  poor  girl." 

The  good  old  lady  heard  this,  for  her  lip  quivered  as  her 
son  said  it.  But  age  has  its  little  infirmities  of  temper, 
and  she  was  not  quite  brought  round  yet.  So,  she 
smoothed  down  the  lavender-coloured  dress  again,  and 
turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick  said,  "Ah,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
young  people  was  very  different,  when  I  was- a  girl." 

"  No  doubt  of  that,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "and 
that's  the  reason  why  I  would  make  much  of  the  few 
that  have  any  traces  of  the  old  stock,"  and  saying  this, 
Mr.  Pickwick  gently  pulled  Bella  towards  him,  and  be- 
stowing a  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  bade  her  sit  down  on 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


397 


the  little  stool  at  her  grandmother's  feet.  Whether  the 
expression  of  her  countenance,  as  it  was  raised  towards 
the  old  lady's  face,  called  up  a  thought  of  old  times,  or 
whether  the  old  lady  was  touched  by  Mr.  Pickwick's 
affectionate  good-nature^  or  whatever  was  the  cause, 
she  was  fairly  melted;  so  she  threw  herself  on  her 
grand-daughter's  neck,  and  all  the  little  ill-humour 
evaporated  in  a  gush  of  silent  tears. 
.  A  happy  party  they  were  that  night.  Sedate  and 
solemn  were  the  score  of  rubbers  in  which  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  the  old  lady  played  together;  and  uproarious 
was  the  mirth  of  the  round  table.  Long  after  the  ladies 
had  retired,  did  the  hot  elder  wine,  well  qualified  with 
brandy  and  spice,  go  round,  and  round,  and  round 
again;  and  sound  was  the  sleep,  and  pleasant  were  the 
dreams  that  followed.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that 
those  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  constant  reference  to 
Emily  Wardle;  and  that  the  principal  figure  in  Mr, 
Winkle's  visions  was  a  young  lady  with  black  eyes,  an 
arch  smile,  and  a  pair  of  remarkably  nice  boots,  with 
fur  round  the  tops. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  awakened,  early  in  the  morning, 
by  a  hum  of  voices  and  pattering  of  feet,  sufficient  to 
rouse  even  the  fat  boy  from  his  heavy  slumbers.  He 
sat  up  in  bed  and  listened.  The  female  servants  and 
the  female  visitors  were  running  constantly  to  and  fro; 
and  there  were  such  multitudinous  demands  for  warm 
water,  such  repeated  outcries  for  needles  and  thread, 
and  Romany  half -suppressed  entreaties  of  Oh,  do  come 
and  tie  me,  there's  a  dear  I "  that  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his 
innocence  began  to  imagine  that  something  dreadful 
must  have  occurred:  when  he  grew  more  awake  and  re- 
membered the  wedding.  The  occasion  being  an  import- 
ant one,  he  dressed  himself  with  peculiar  care,  and  de- 
scended to  the  breakfast  room. 

There  were  all  the  female  servants  in  a  bran  new 
uniform  of  pink  muslin  gowns,  with  white  bows  in  their 
caps,  running  about  the  house  in  a  state  of  excitement 
and  agitation  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  describe. 
The  old  lady  was  dressed  out  in  a  brocaded  gown, 
which  had  not  seen  the  light  for  twenty  years,  saving 
and  excepting  such  truant  rays  as  had  stolen  through 
the  cliinks  in  the  box  in  which  it  had  been  lain  by  dur- 
ing the  whole  time,    Mr,  Trundle  Avas  in  high  feather 


398 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

• 


and  spirits,  but  a  little  nervous  withal.  The  hearty  old 
landlord  was  trying  to  look  very  cheerful  and  uncon- 
cerned, but  failing  signally  in  the  attempt.  All  the 
girls  were  in  tears  and  white  muslin,  except  a  select 
two  or  three,  who  were  being  honoured  with  a  private 
view  of  the  bride  and  bridesmaids,  up  stairs.  AH  the 
Pickwickians  were  in  the  most  blooming  array;  and 
there  was  a  terrific  roaring  on  the  grass  in  front  of  the 
house,  occasioned  by  all  the  men,  boys,  and  hobblede- 
hoys attached  to  the  farm,  each  of  whom  had  got  a 
white  bow  in  his  button-hole,  and  all  of  whom  were 
cheering  with  might  and  main:  being  incited  thereunto, 
and  stimulated  therein,  by  the  precept  and  example  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  had  managed  to  become 
mighty  popular  already,  and  was  as  much  at  home  as 
if  he  had  been  born  on  the  land. 

A  wedding  is  a  licensed  subject  to  joke  upon,  but 
there  really  is  no  great  joke  in  the  matter  after  all — 
we  speak  merely  of  the  ceremony,  and  beg  it  to  be  dis- 
tinctly understood  that  we  indulge  in  no  hidden  sar- 
casm upon  a  married  life.  Mixed  up  with  the  pleasure 
and  joy  of  the  occasion,  are  the  many  regrets  at  quit- 
ting home,  the  tears  of  pa^rting  between  parent  and 
child,  the  consciousness  of  leaving  the  dearest  and 
kindest  friends  of  the  happiest  portion  of  human  life, 
to  encounter  its  cares  and  troubles  with  others  still  un- 
tried and  little  known:  natural  feelings  which  we 
would  not  render  this  chapter  mournful  by  describing, 
and  which  we  would  be  still  more  unwilling  to  be  sup- 
posed to  ridicule. 

Let  us  briefly  say,  then,  that  the  ceremony  w^as  per- 
formed by  the  old  clergyman,  in  the  parish  church  of 
Dingley  Dell,  and  that  Mr.  Pickwick's  name  is  attached 
to  the  register,  still  preserved  in  the  vestry  thereof; 
that  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes  signed  her 
name  in  a  very  unsteady  and  tremulous  manner;  and 
that  Emily's  signature,  as  the  other  bridesmaid,  is 
nearly  illegible;  and  that  it  all  went  off  in  a  very  ad- 
mirable style;  that  the  young  ladies  generally  thought 
it  far  less  shocking  than  they  had  expected;  and  that 
although  the  owner  of  the  black  eyes  and  the  arched 
smile  informed  Mr.  Winkle  that  she  was  sure  she  could 
never  submit  to  anything  so  dreadful,  we  have  the  very 
best  reasons  for  thinking  she  was  mistaken.    To  all 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  399 

this,  we  may  add  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  first  who 
saluted  the  bride:  and  that  in  so  doing  he  threw  over 
her  neck  a  rich  gold  watch  and  chain  which  no  mortal 
eyes  but  the  jeweller's  had  ever  beheld  before.  Then, 
the  old  church  bell  rang  as  gaily  as  it  could,  and  they 
all  returned  to  breakfast. 

'^Veredoes  the  mince-pies  go,  young  opium-eater?" 
said  Mr.  Weller  to  the  fat  boy,  as  he  assisted  in  laying 
out  such  articles  of  consumption  as  had  not  been  duly 
arranged  on  the  previous  night. 

The  fat  boy  pointed  to  the  destination  of  the  pies. 
Werry  good,"  said  Sam,  ''stick  a  bit  o'  Christmas 
in  'em.    T'other  dish  opposite.    There;  now  we  look 
compact  and  comfortable,  as  the  father  said  ven  he  cut 
his  little  boy's  head  off,  to  cure  him  o'  squintin'." 

As  Mr.  Weller  made  the  comparison,  he  fell  back  a 
step  or  two,  to  give  full  effect  to  it,  and  surveyed  the 
preparations  with  the  utmost  satisfaction. 

"  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost  as  soon  as  they 
were  all  seated,  ''a  glass  of  wine,  in  honour  of  this 
happy  occasion." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,  my  boy,"  said  Wardle.  "  Joe — 
damn  that  boy,  he's  gone  to  sleep." 

No,  I  ain't  sir,"  replied  the  fat  boy,  starting  up  from 
a  remote  corner,  where,  like  the  patron  saint  of  fat  boys 
— the  immortal  Horner — he  had  been  devouring  a  Christ- 
mas pie:  though  not  with  the  coolness  and  deliberation 
which  characterized  that  young  gentleman's  proceed- 
ings. 

"  Fill  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass." 
.  ''Yes,  sir." 

The  fat  boy  filled  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass,  and  then  re- 
tired behind  his  master's  chair,  from  whence  he  watched 
the  play  of  the  knives  and  forks,  and  the  progress  of 
the  choice  morsels,  from  the  dishes,  to  the  mouths  of 
the  company,  with  a  kind  of  dark  and  gloomy  joy  that 
was  most  impressive. 

"  God  bless  you,  old  fellow!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Same  to  you,  my  boy,"  replied  Wardle;  and  they 
pledged  each  other  heartily. 

"Mrs.  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "we  old  folks 
must  have  a  glass  of  wine  together,  in  honour  of  this 
Joyful  event." 

The  old  lady  was  in  a  stnto  of  great  grandeur  just 


400  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

then,  for  she  was  sitting  at  the  top  of  the  table  in  the 
brocaded  gown,  with  her  newly-married  daughter  on 
one  side,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  other,  to  do  the  carv- 
ing. Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  spoken  in  a  very  loud  tone, 
but  she  understood  him  at  once,  and  drank  off  a  full 
glass  of  wine  to  his  long  life  and  happiness;  after  which 
the  worthy  old  soul  launched  forth  into  a  minute  and 
particular  account  of  her  own  wedding,  with  a  disserta- 
tion on  the  fashion  of  wearing  high-heeled  shoes,  and 
some  particulars  concerning  the  life  and  adventures  of 
the  beautiful  Lady  Tollimglower,  deceased:  at  all  of 
which  the  old  lady  herself  laughed  very  heartily  indeed, 
and  so  did  the  young  ladies  too,  for  they  were  wonder- 
ing among  themselves  what  on  earth  grandma  was  talk- 
ing about.  When  they  laughed,  the  old  lady  laughed 
ten  times  more  heartily,  and  said  that  these  always  had 
been  considered  capital  stories:  which  caused  them  all 
to  laugh  again,  and  put  the  old  lady  into  the  very  best 
of  humours.  Then  the  cake  was  cut,  and  passed  through 
the  ring;  and  the  young  ladies  saved  pieces  to  put  under 
their  pillows  to  dream  of  their  future  husbands  on;  and 
a* great  deal  of  blushing  and  merriment  was  thereby 
occasioned. 

^^Mr.  Miller,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  his  old  acquaint- 
ance, the  hard-headed  gentleman,    a  glass  of  wine?" 

^^With  great  satisfaction,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  replied  the 
hard-headed  gentleman,  solemnly. 

^'You'll  take  me  in  ?"  said  the  benevolent  old  clergyman. 

"  And  me,"  interposed  his  wife. 
And  me,  and  me,"  said  a  couple  of  poor  relations  at  ^ 
the  bottom  of  the  table,  who  had  eaten  and  drank  very 
heartily,  and  laughed  at  everything. 

Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  his  heartfelt  delight  at  every 
additional  suggestion;  and  his  eyes  beamed  with  hilarity 
and  cheerfulness. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly 
rising — 

Hear,  hear!     Hear,  hear!     Hear,  hear!"  cried  Mr. 
Weller,  in  the  excitement  of  his  feelings. 

''Call  in  all  the  servants,"  cried  old  Wardle,  interpos- 
ing to  prevent  the  public  rebuke  which  Mr.  Weller  would 
otherwise  most  indubitably  have  received'from  his  mas- 
ter. ''Give  them  a  glass  of  wine  each,  to  drink  the 
toast  in.    Now,  Pickwick." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


401 


Amidst  the  silence  of  the  company,  the  whispering  of 
the  women  servants,  and  the  awkward  embarrassment 
of  the  men,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen — no,  I  won't  say  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I'll  call  you  my  friends,  my  dear  friends,  if 
the  ladies  will  allow  me  to  take  so  great  a  liberty — " 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  interrupted  by  immense  ap- 
plause from  the  ladies,  echoed  by  the  gentlemen,  during 
which  the  owner  of  the  eyes  was  distinctly  heard  to 
state  that  she  could  kiss  that  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  where- 
upon Mr.  Winkle  gallantly  inquired  if  it  couldn't  be  done 
by  deputy:  to  which  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes 
replied,  ''Go  away  " — and  accompanied  the  request  by  a 
look  which  said  as  plainly  as  a  look  could  do — "  if  you 
can." 

"  My  dear  friends,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  am 
going  to  propose  the  health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
— God  bless  'em  (cheers  and  tears).  My  young  friend 
Trundle,  I  believe  to  be  a  very  excellent  and  manly  fellow ; 
and  his  wife  I  know  to  be  a  very  amiable  and  lovely 
girl,  well  qualified  to  transfer  to  another  sphere  of  ac- 
tion the  happiness  which  for  twenty  years  she  has  dif- 
fused around  her,  in  her  father's  house.  (Here,  the  fat 
boy  burst  forth  into  stentorian  blubberings,  and  was  led 
forth  by  the  coat-collar,  by  Mr.  Weller).  I  wish"  added 
Mr.  Pickwick,  ''I  wish  I  was  young  enough  to  be  her 
sister's  husband  (cheers),  but,  failing  that,  I  am  happy 
to  be  old  enough  to  be  her  father;  for,  being  so,  I  shall 
not  be  suspected  of  any  latent  designs  when  I  say,  that 
I  admire,  esteem,  and  love  them  both  (cheers  and  sobs). 
The  bride's  father,  our  good  friend  there,  is  a  noble  per- 
son, and  I  am  proud  to  know  him  (great  liproar).  He  is 
a  kind,  excellent,  independent-spirited,  fine-hearted,  hos- 
pitable, liberal  man  (enthusiastic  shouts  from  the  poor 
relations,  at  all  the  adjectives;  and  especially  at  the  two 
last).  That  his  daughter  may  enjoy  all  the  happiness, 
even  he  can  desire;  and  that  he  may  derive  from  the 
contemplation  of  her  felicity  all  the  gratification  of 
heart  and  peace  of  mind  which  he  so  well  deserves,  is,  I 
am  persuaded,  our  united  wish.  So,  let  us  drink  their 
healths,  and  wish  them  prolonged  life  and  every  bless- 
ing ! " 

Mr.  Pickwick  concluded  amidst  a  whirlwind  of  ap- 
plause; and  once  more  were  the  lungs  of  the  supernume- 


402  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


raries,  under  Mr.  Weller's  command,  brought  into  active 
and  efficient  operation  Mr.  Wardle  proposed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  proposed  the  old  lady.  Mr. 
Snodgrass  proposed  Mr.  Wardle,  and  Mr.  Wardle  pro- 
posed Mr.  Snodgrass.  One  of  the  poor  relations  pro- 
posed Mr.  Tupman,  and  the  other  poor  relation  proposed 
Mr.  Winkle;  and  all  was  happiness  and  festivity,  until 
the  mysterious  disappearance  of  both  the  poor  relations 
beneath  the  table  warned  the  party  that  it  was  time  to 
adjourn. 

At  dinner,  they  met  again,  after  a  five-and-twenty 
mile  walk,  undertaken  by  the  males  by  Wardle's  recom- 
mendation, to  get  rid  of  the  effects  of  the  wine  at  break- 
fast. The  poor  relations  had  kept  in  bed  all  day,  with 
the  view  of  attaining  the  same  happy  consummation;  but, 
as  they  had  been  unsuccessful,  they  stopped  there.  Mr. 
Weller  kept  the  domestics  in  a  state  of  perpetual  hilarity; 
and  the  fat  boy  divided  his  time  into  small  alternate 
allotments  of  eating  and  sleeping. 

The  dinner  was  as  hearty  an  affair  as  the  breakfast, 
and  was  quite  as  noisy,  without  the  tears.  Then  came 
dessert  and  some  more  toasts.  Then  came  tea  and  the 
coffee;  and  then  the  ball. 

The  best  sitting-room  at  Manor  Farm  was  a  good, 
long,  dark-panelled  room  with  a  high  chimney-piece, 
and  a  capacious  chimney,  up  which  you  could  have 
driven  one  of  the  new  patent  cabs,  wheels  and  all.  At 
the  upper  end  of  the  room,  seated  in  a  shady  bower  of 
holly  and  evergreens,  were  the  two  best  fiddlers  and  the 
only  harp  in  all  Muggleton.  In  all  sorts  of  recesses,  and 
on  all  kinds  of  brackets,  stood  massive  old  silver  candle- 
sticks with  four  branches  each.  The  carpet  was  up,  the 
candles  burned  iSright,  the  fire  blazed  and  crackled  on 
the  hearth;  and  merry  voices  and  light-hearted  laughter 
rang  through  the  room.  If  any  of  the  old  English  yeo- 
men had  turned  into  fairies  when  they  died,  it  was 
just  the  place  in  which  they  would  have  held  their  revels. 

If  anything  could  have  added  to  the  interest  of  this 
agreeable  scene,  it  would  have  been  the  remarkable  fact 
of  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearing  without  his  gaiters,  for  the 
first  time  within  the  memory  of  his  oldest  friends. 

''You  mean  to  dance?"  said  Wardle. 
Of  course  I  do,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.      Don't  you 
^ee  I  am  dressed  for  the  purpose?"   Mr.  Pickwick  called 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  403 

attention  to  his  speckled  silk  stockings,  and  smartly 
tied  pumps. 

"You  in  silk  stockings  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman,  jo- 
cosely. 

*^And  why  not,  sir — why  not?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
turning  warmly  u.pon  him. 

'^Oh,  of  course  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
wear  them/'  responded  Mr.  Tupman. 

^^I  imagine  not,  sir — I  imagine  not,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, in  a  very  peremptory  tone. 

Mr.  Tupman  had  contemplated  a  laugh,  but  he  found 
it  was  a  serious  matter;  so  he  looked  grave,  and  said 
they  were  a  very  pretty  pattern. 

^'I  hope  they  are,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  his  friend.  ^^You  see  nothing  extraordinary  in 
these  stockings,  as  stockings,  I  trust,  sir?" 

Certainly  not — oh,  certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Tup- 
man. He  walked  away;  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  counte- 
nance resumed  its  customary  benign  expression. 

"  We  are  all  ready,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who 
was  stationed  with  the  old  lady  at  the  top  of  the  dance, 
and  had  already  made  four  false  starts,  in  his  excessive 
anxiety  to  commence. 

"  Then  begin  at  once,"  said  Wardle.  ''>Tow!" 

Up  struck  the  two  fiddles  and  the  one  harp,  and  off 
went  Mr.  Pickwick  into  hands  across,  when  there  was  a 
general  clapping  of  hands,  and  a  cry  of     Stop,  stop!" 

''What's  the  matter?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was 
only  brought  to  by  the  fiddles  and  harp  desisting,  and 
could  have  been  stopped  by  no  other  earthly  power,  if 
the  house  had  been  on  fire. 

''Where's  Arabella  Allen?"  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"And  Winkle?"  added  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Here  we  are!"  exclaimed  that  gentleman,  emerging 
with  his  pretty  companion  from  the  corner;  as  he  did 
so,  it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  v/hicli  was  the  redder 
in  the  face,  he  or  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes. 

"What  an  extraordinary  thing  it  is.  Winkle,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  rather  pettishly,  "  that  you  couldn't  have 
taken  your  place  before!" 

"Not  at  all  extraordinary,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  very  expressive 
smile,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  Arabella;  "well,  I  don't 
know  that  it  was  extraordinary,  either,  after  all." 


^04  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


However,  there  was  no  time  to  think  more  about  the 
matter,  for  the  fiddles  and  harp  began  in  real  earnest. 
Away  went  Mr.  Pickwick — hands  across — down  the 
middle  to  the  very  end  of  the  room,  and  half  way  up 
the  chimney,  back  again  to  the  door — poussette  every- 
where— loud  stamp  on  the  ground — ready  for  the  next 
couple — off  again — all  the  figure  over  once  more — 
another  stamp  to  beat  out  the  time — next  couple,  and 
the  next,  and  the  next  again — never  was  such  going! 
At  last,  after  they  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  dance, 
and  full  fourteen  couple  after  the  old  lady  had  retired 
in  an  exhausted  state,  and  the  clergyman's  wife  had  been 
substituted  in  her  stead,  did  that  gentleman,  when  there 
was  no  demand  whatever  on  his  exertions,  keep  perpet- 
ually dancing  in  his  place,  to  keep  time  to  the  music: 
smiling  on  his  partner  all  the  while  with  a  blandness  of 
demeanour  which  baffles  all  description. 

Long  before  Mr.  Pickwick  was  weary  of  dancing,  the 
newly-married  couple  had  retired  from  the  scene.  There 
was  a  glorious  supper  down  stairs,  notwithstanding,  and 
a  good  long  sitting  after  it;  and  when  Mr.  Pickwick 
awoke,  late  the  next  morning,  he  had  a  confused  recol- 
lection of  having,  severally  and  confidentially,  invited 
somewhere  about  five-and-f orty  people  to  dine^^with  him 
at  the  George  and  Vulture,  the  very  first  time  they 
came  to  London;  which  Mr.  Pickwick  rightly  consid- 
ered a  pretty  certain  indication  of  his  having  taken 
something  besides  exercise,  on  the  previous  night. 

And  so  your  family  has  games  in  the  kitchen  to- 
night, my  dear,  has  they?"  inquired  Sam  of  Emma. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Weller,"  replied  Emma;  ''we  always  have 
on  Christmas-eve.  Master  wouldn't  neglect  to  keep  it 
up,  on  any  account." 

'' Yoiir  master's  a  worry  pretty  notion  of  keepin'  any- 
thin'  up,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  ''I  never  see  such 
a  sensible  sort  of  man  as  he  is,  or  such  a  reg'lar  genl'- 
'man." 

''Oh,  that  he  is!"  said  the  fat  boy,  joining  in  the  con- 
versation; "don't  he  breed  nice  pork!"  and  the  fat 
youth  gave  a  semi-cannibalic  leer  at  Mr.  Weller,  as  he 
thought  of  the  roast  legs  and  gravy. 

"Oh,  you've  woke  up,  at  last,  have  you?"  said  Sam. 

The  fat  boy  nodded. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  jomig  boa  constructer,"  ^aid 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


Mr.  Weller,  impressively;  ''if  you  don't  sleep  a  little 
less,  and  exercise  a  little  more,  wen  you  comes  to  be  a 
man  you'll  lay  yourself  open  to  the  same  sort  of  personal 
inconwenience  as  was  inflicted  on  the  old  gen'l'man  as 
wore  the  pig-tail." 

"  What  did  they  do  to  him?"  inquired  the  fat  boy,  in 
a  trembling  voice. 

"  I'm  a  goin'  to  tell  you,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  "  he  was 
one  o'  the  largest  patterns  as  was  ever  turned  out — regu- 
lar fat  man,  as  hadn't  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  own  shoes 
for  five-and-forty  year." 

"  Lor!"  exclaimed  Emma. 
No,  that  he  hadn't,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  ^'and 
if  you'd  put  an  exact  model  of  his  own  legs  on  the  dinin' 
table  afore  him  he  wouldn't  ha'  known  'em.  Well,  he 
always  walks  to  his  office  with  a  werry  handsome  gold 
watch-chain  hanging  out  about  a  foot  and  a  quarter, 
and  a  gold  watch  in  his  fob  pocket  as  was  worth — I'm 
afraid  to  say  how  much,  but  as  much  as  a  watch  can 
be — a  large,  ready,  round  manafacter,  as  stout  for  a 
vv^atch  as  he  was  for  a  man,  and  with  a  big  face  in  pro- 
portion. 'You'd  better  not  carry  that  'ere  watch,'  says 
the  old  gen'l'm'n's  friends,  '  you'll  be  robbed  on  it,'  says 
they.  'Shall  I?'  says  he.  'Yes,  will  you,' says  they. 
*  Veil,'  says  he,  '  I  should  like  to  see  the  thief  as  could 
get  this  here  watch  out,  for  I'm  blessed  if  I  ever  can, 
it's  such  a  tight  fit,"  says  he;  'andveneverl  wants  to 
know  what's  o'clock,  I'm  obliged  to  stare  into  the  bakers' 
shops,'  he  says.  Well,  then  he  laughs  as  hearty  as  if  he 
was  a  goin'  to  pieces,  and  out  he  walks  agin  with  his 
powdered  head  and  pig-tail,  and  rolls  down  the  Strand 
vith  the  chain  hangin'  out  furder  than  ever  and  the 
great  round  watch  almost  bustin'  through  his  grey  ker- 
sey smalls.  There  warn't  a  pickpocket  in  all  London  as 
didn't  take  a  pull  at  that  chain,  but  the  chain  'ud  never 
break  and  the  watch  'ud  never  come  out,  so  they  soon 
got  tired  o'  dragging  such  a  heavy  old  gen'l'm'n  along 
the  pavement,  and  he'd  go  home  and  laugh  till  the  pig- 
tail wibrated  like  the  penderlum  of  a  Dutch  clock.  At 
Jast  one  day  the  old  gen'l'm'n  was»a  rollin'  along,  and  he 
sees  a  pickpocket,  as  he  know'd  by  sight,  a  comin'  up 
arm-in-arm  vith  a  little  boy  vith  a  werry  large  heacf. 
'  Here's  a  game,'  says  the  old  gen'l'm'n  to  himself, 
'they're  a-goin'  to  hav('  an<>th^M-  try.  but  it  won't  do," 


406  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

So  he  begins  a  chucklin'  werry  hearty,  wen,  all  of  a  sud- 
den, the  little  boy  leaves  hold  of  the  pickpocket's  arm 
and  rushes  headforemost  straight  into  the  old  gen'Fm'n's 
stomach,  and  for  a  moment  doubles  him  right  up  vith 
the  pain.  '  Murder!'  says  the  old  gen'Fm'n.  '  All  right, 
sir,'  says  the  pickpocket,  a  whisperin'  in  his  ear.  And 
v/en  he  come  straight  agin  the  watch  and  chain  was 
gone,  and  what's  worse  than  that,  the  old  gen'l'm'n's 
digestion  was  all  wrong  ever  artervards  to  the  werry 
last  day  of  his  life;  so  just  you  look  about  you,  young  fel- 
ler, and  take  care  you  don't  get  too  fat." 

As  Mr.  Weller  concluded  this  moral  tale,  with  which 
the  fat  boy  appeared  much  affected,  they  all  three  re- 
paired to  the  large  kitchen,  in  which  the  family  were  by 
this  time  assembled,  according  to  annual  custom  on 
Christmas-eve,  observed  by  old  Wardle's  forefathers 
from  time  immemorial. 

From  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  of  this  kitchen  old 
Wardle  had  just  suspended,  with  his  own  hands,  a  huge 
branch  of  misletoe,  and  this  same  branch  of  misletoe 
instantaneously  gave  rise  to  a  scene  of  general  and  most 
delightful  struggling  and  confusion;  in  the  midst  of 
which  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  gallantry  that  would  have 
done  honour  to  a  descendant  of  Lady  ToUimglower  her- 
self, took  the  old  lady  by  the  hand,  led  her  beneath  the 
mystic  branch,  and  saluted  her  in  all  courtesy  and  de- 
corum. The  old  lady  submitted  to  this  piece  of  practi- 
cal politeness  with  all  the  dignity  which  befitted  so  im- 
portant and  serious  a  solemnity,  but  the  younger  ladies 
not  being  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  a  superstitious 
veneration  for  the  custom:  or  imagining  that  the  value 
of  a  salute  is  very  much  enhanced  if  it  cost  a  little 
trouble  to  obtain  it:  screamed  and  struggled  and  ran 
into  corners,  and  threatened  and  remonstrated,  and  did 
everything  but  leave  the  room,  until  some  of  the  less  ad- 
venturous gentlemen  were  on  the  point  of  desisting, 
v/hen  they  all  at  once  found  it  useless  to  resist  any  lon- 
ger, and  submitted  to  be  kissed  with  a  good  grace.  Mr. 
Winkle  kissed  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes,  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  kissed  Emily,  and  Mr.  Weller,  not  being 
particular  about  the  form  of  being  under  the  misletoe, 
kissed  Emma  and  the  other  female  servants,  just  as  he 
caught  them.  As  to  the  poor  relations,  they  kissed 
everybody,  not  even  exceptmg  the  plainer  portion  of  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


40? 


young-lady  visitors,  who,  in  their  excessive  confusion,  ran 
right  under  the  misletoe,  as  soon  as  it  was  hungup,  with- 
out knowing  it!  V/ardle  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
surveying  the  whole  scene  with  the  utmost  satisfaction; 
and  the  fat  boy  took  the  opportunity  of  appropriating  to 
his  own  use  and  summarily  devouring  a  particularly 
fine  mince  pie  that  had  been  carefully  put  by  for  some- 
body else. 

Now,  the  screaming  had  subsided,  and  faces  were  in 
a  glow,  and  curls  in  a  tangle,  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
kissing  the  old  lady  as  before  mentioned,  was  standing 
under  the  misletoe,  looking  with  a  very  pleased  counte- 
nance on  all  that  was  passing  around  him,  when  the 
young  lady  with  the  black  eyes,  after  a  little  whispering 
with  the  other  young  ladies,  made  a  sudden  dart  for- 
ward, and  putting  her  arm  round  Mr.  Pickwick's  neck, 
saluted  him  affectionately  on  the  left  cheek;  and  before 
Mr.  Pickwick  distinctly  knew  what  was  the  matter,  he 
was  surrounded  by  the  whole  body,  and  kissed  by  every 
one  of  them. 

It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the 
centre  of  the  group,  nov/  pulled  this  way,  and  then  that, 
and  first  kissed  on  the  chin,  and  then  on  the  nose,  and  then 
on  the  spectacles;  and  to  hear  the  peals  of  laughter  which 
were  raised  on  every  side;  but  it  was  a  still  more  pleasant 
thing  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick,  blinded  shortly  afterwards 
with  a  silk  handkerchief,  falling  up  against  the  wall,  and 
scrambling  into  corners,  and  going  through  all  the  mys- 
teries of  blindman's  buff,  with  the  utmost  relish  for  the 
game,  until  at  last  he  caught  one  of  the  poor  relations, 
and  then  had  to  evade  the  blindman  himself,  which  he 
did  with  a  nimbleness  and  agility  that  elicited  the  admi- 
ration and  applause  of  all  beholders.  The  poor  relations 
caught  the  people  who  they  thought  would  like  it;  and 
when  the  game  flagged,  got  caught  themselves.  When 
they  were  all  tired  of  blindman's  buff,  there  was  a  great 
game  at  snapdragon,  and  when  fingers  enough  were 
burned  with  that,  and  all  the  raisins  were  gone,  they 
sat  down,  by  the  huge  fire  of  blazing  logs,  to  a  sub- 
stantial supper,  and  a  mighty  bowl  of  wassail,  some- 
thing smaller  than  an  ordinary  wash-house  copper, 
in  which  the  hot  apples  were  hissing  and  bubbling 
with  a  rich  look,  and  a  jolly  sound,  that  were  perfectly 
irresistible.  p 


408  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''This/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  him,  ''this 
IS,  indeed,  comfort/' 

"  Our  invariable  custom,"  replied  Mr.  Wardle.  "  Every- 
body sits  down  with  us  on  Christmas-eve,  as  you  see 
them  now— servants  and  all;  and  here  we  wait  until  the 
clock  strikes  twelve,  to  usher  Christmas  in,  and  beguile 
the  time  with  forfeits  and  old  stories.  Trundle,  mv  boy 
rake  up  the  fire.''  ^  j 

Up  new  the  bright  sparks  in  myriads  as  the  logs  were 
stirred.  The  deep  red  blaze  sent  forth  a  rich  glow,  that 
penetrated  into  the  furthest  corner  of  the  room,  and  cast 
its  cheerful  tint  on  every  face. 

''Come,"  said  Wardle,  "a  song— a  Christmas  song  I 
1 11  give  you  one,  in  default  of  a  better." 

"Bravo  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fill  up,"  cried  Wardle.  "  It  will  be  two  hours,  good, 
before  you  see  the  bottom  of  the  bowl  through  the 
deep  rich  colour  of  the  wassail;  fill  up  all  round,  and 
now  for  the  song." 

Thus  saying,  the  merry  old  gentleman,  in  a  good, 
round,  sturdy  voice,  commenced  without  more  ado: 

A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 
I  CAKE  not  for  Spring  ;  on  his  fickle  wing 
Let  the  blossoms  and  buds  be  borne: 
He  wooes  them  amain  with  his  treacherous  rain, 
And  he  scatters  them  ere  the  morn. 
An  inconstant  elf,  he  knows  not  himself, 
Nor  his  own  changing  mind  an  hour, 
He'll  smile  in  your  face,  and,  with  wry  grimace 
He'll  wither  your  youngest  flower. 

Let  the  Summer  sun  to  his  bright  home  run. 

He  shall  never  be  sought  by  me; 

When  he's  dimmed  by  a  cloud  I  can  laugh  aloud. 

And  care  not  how  sulky  he  be ! 

For  his  darling  child  is  the  madness  wild 

That  sports  in  fierce  fever's  train; 

And  when  love  is  too  strong,  it  don't  last  long, 

As  many  have  found  to  their  pain. 

A  mild  harvest  night,  by  the  tranquil  light 

Of  the  modest  and  gentle  moon. 

Has  a  far  sweeter  sheen,  for  me,  I  ween, 

Than  the  broad  and  unblushing  noon. 

But  every  leaf  awakens  my  grief, 

As  it  lieth  beneath  the  tree; 

So  let  Autumn  air  be  never  so  fair. 

It  by  no  means  agrees  with  me,  • 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


m 


But  my  song  I  troll  out,  for  Christmas  stout, 

The  hearty,  the  true  and  the  bold; 

A  bumper  I  drain,  and  with  might  and  main 

Give  three  cheers  for  this  Christmas  old  ! 

We'll  usher  him  in  with  a  merry  din 

That  shall  gladden  his  joyous  heart, 

And  we'll  keep  him  up,  while  there's  bite  or  sup, 

And  in  fellowship  good,  we'll  part. 

In  his  fine  honest  pride  he  scorns  to  hide 

One  jot  of  his  hard-weather  scars  ; 

They're  no  disgrace,  for  there's  much  the  same  trace 

On  the  cheeks  of  our  bravest  tars. 

Then  again  I  sing  'till  the  roof  doth  ring. 

And  it  echoes  from  wall  to  wall — 

To  the  stout  old  wight,  fair  welcome  to-night, 

As  the  King  of  the  Seasons  all ! 

This  song  was  tumultuously  applauded — for  friends 
and  dependents  make  a  capital  audience — and  the  poor 
relations,  especially,  were  in  perfect  ecstacies  of  rap- 
ture. Again  was  the  fire  replenished,  and  again  went 
the  wassail  round. 

"  How  it  snows  !  said  one  of  the  men,  in  a  low  tone. 
Snows,  does  it  ?"  said  Wardle. 

Rgugh,  cold  night,  sir,"  replied  the  man;  ''and 
there's  a  wind  got  up  that  drifts  it  across  the  fields  in  a 
thick  white  cloud." 

''What  does  Jem  say?"  inquired  the  old  lady. 
"  There  ain't  anything  the  matter,  is  there  ?" 

"  No,  no,  mother,"  replied  Wardle  ;  "he  says  there's 
a  snow-drift  and  a  wind  that's  piercing  cold.  I  should 
know  that  by  the  way  it  rumbles  in  the  chimney." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  "  there  was  just  such  a  wind 
and  just  such  a  fall  of  snow  a  good  many  years  back,  I 
recollect — just  five  years  before  your  poor  father  died. 
It  was  a  Christmas-eve,  too ;  and  I  remember  that  on 
that  very  night  he  told  us  the  story  about  the  goblins 
that  carried  away  old  Gabriel  Grub." 

"The  story  about  what  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

' '  Oh,  nothing — nothing, "  replied  Wardle.  ' '  About  an 
old  sexton,  that  the  good  people  down  h^e  suppose  to 
have  been  carried  away  by  goblins." 

"  Suppose  ! "  ejaculated  the  old  lady.  "  Is  there  any- 
body hardy  enough  to  disbelieve  it  ?  Suppose  !  Haven't 
you  heard  ever  smce  you  were  a  child  that  he  tuas  car- 
ried away  by  the  goblins,  and  don't  you  know  he  was  ?" 


410     POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF  THH  PICKWICK  CLUB. 

Very  well,  mother,  he  was,  if  you  like,"  said  Wardle, 
laughing.  He  ' was  carried  away  by  goblins,  Pickwick, 
and  there's  aii  end  of  the  matter." 

''No,  no/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''not  an  end  of  it,  I 
assure  you ;  for  I  must  hear  how,  and  why,  and  all 
about  it." 

Wardle  smiled  as  every  head  was  bent  forward  to 
hear;  and  filling  out  the  wassail  with  no  stinted  hand, 
nodded  a  health  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  began  as  follows: 

But,  bless  our  editorial  heart,  what  a  long  chapter 
we  have  been  betrayed  into  !  We  had  quite  forgotten 
all  such  petty  restrictions  as  chapters,  ^  we  solemnly  de- 
clare. So  here  goes  to  give  the  goblin  a  fair  start  in  a 
new  one  !  A  clear  stage  and  no  favour  for  the  gobUns, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  if  you  please. 


* 


END  OF  VOL,,  I. 


0 


THE 

POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 

BY  CHARLES  DIGKENS. 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  11. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
BOSTON: 

PERRY  MASON  &  CO. 

TEMPLE  PLACE. 


1884. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  Page. 
The  Story  of  the  Goblins  who  stole  a  Sexton         .         .         .         .        ^,         .  1 

CHAPTEK  II. 

How  the  Pickwickians  made  and  cultivated  the  Acquaintance  of  a  couple  of  nice  young 
Men  belonging  to  one  of  the  liberal  Professions;  how  they  disported  themselves 
on  the  Ice;  and  how  their  first  Visit  came  to  a  conclusion         .         ...  12 

CHAPTER  III. 

Which  is  all  about  the  Law,  and  sundry  great  Authorities  learned  therein         .         .  24 
CHAPTER  IV. 

Deacribee,  farmore  fully  than  the  Court  Newsman  ever  did,  a  Bachelor's  Party,  given 

by  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  at  his  Lodgings  in  the  Borough         .         .         .         .    .  41 

CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Weller  the  elder  delivers  some  critical  Sentiments  respecting  literary  Compo- 
sition; and  assisted  by  his  Son  Samuel,  pays  a  small  Installment  of  Retaliation 
to  the  Account  of  the  Reverend  Gentleman  with  the  Red  Isose         .  .       .  65 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Ih  wholly  devoted  to  a  full  and  faithful  Report  of  the  memorable  Trial  of  Bardell 

against  Pickwick         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .    .  73 

CHAPTER  VII. 

In  which  Mr.  Pickwick  thinks  he  had  better  go  to  Bath;  and  goes  accordingly    .      .  99 
CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  chief  Feature  of  which  will  be  found  to  be  an  authentic  Version  of  the  Ivc^'cnd  of 

Prince  Bladud  and  a  most  extraordinary  Calamity  that  befel  Mr.  Winkle  .  115 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Honorably  accounts^or  Mr.  Weller's  Absence,  by  describing  a  Soiree  to  which  he  was 
invited,  and  went;  also  relates  how  he  was  entrusted  by  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a 
private  Mission  of  Delicacy  and  Importance  .....  127 


CHAPTER  X. 


How  Mr..  Winkle,  when  he  stepped  out  of  the  Frying-Pan,  walked  gently  and  comfort- 
ably into  the  Fire  .  .  .         .         .         .         .         .  .141 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  being  entrusted  with  a  Mission  of  Love,  proceeds  to  execute  it; 

with  what  Success  will  hereinafter  appear         ......  156 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Introduces  Mr.  Pickwick  to  a  new  and  not  uninteresting  Scene  in  the  great  Drama  of 

Life  172 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


What  befel  Mr.  Pickwick  when  he  got  into  the  Fleet;  what  Prisoners  he  saw  there;  and 

how  he  passed  the  Night         .         .         .         .         .         .         ...  18.5 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Illustrative,  like  the  preceding  one,  of  the  old  Proverb,  that  Adversity  brings  a  Man 
acquainted  with  strange  Bedfellows.  Likewise  containing  Mr.  Pickwick's  ex- 
traordinary and  startling  Announcement  to  Mr.  Samuel  Weller         .         .     .  190 


CHAPTER  XV. 


Showing  h-ow  Mr.  Samuel  Wellor  got  into  Difiaculties         .....  214 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


Treats  of  divers  little  Matters  which  occurred  in  the  Fleet,  and  of  Mr.  Winkle's  myste- 
rious Behaviour;  and  shows  how  the  poor  Chancery  Prisoner  obtained  his  Release 
at  last         .         .         .         ,  229 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Descriptive  of  an  affecting  Interview  between  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  and  a  Family  Party. 
Mr.  Pickwick  makes  a  Tour  of  the  diminutive  World  he  inhabits  and  resolves  to 
mix  with  it,  in  future,  as  little  as  possible         ......  243 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


Eecords  a  touching  Act  of  delicate  Feeling,  not  unmixed  with  Pleasantry,  achieved  and 

performed  by  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg         .         .         .         .         .  .201 


CONTENTS: 


vii 


CHAPTER  XIX.  Page. 

Is  chiefly  devoted  to  Matters  of  Business,  and  the  temporal  Advantage  of  Dodson  and 
Fogg.  Mr.  Winkle  reappears  under  extraordinary  Circiimstances.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's Benevolence  proves  stronger  tlian  his  Obstinacy         .         .         .        .  271 


CHAPTEE  XX. 


Belates  how  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  Assistance  of  Samuel  Weller,  essayed  to  soften  the 

Heart  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  to  mollify  the  Wrath  of  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer     .  284 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


Uontaiuiug  the  Story  of  the  Bagman's  Uncle         .         .         .         ,         ,      .      .  298 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

H«w  Mr.  Pickwick  sped  upon  his  Mission,  and  how  he  was  reinforced,  in  the  Outset, 

by  a  most  unexpected  Auxiliai*y  .  .  .....  31& 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

lu  which  Mr.  Pickwick  encounters  an  old  Acquaintance.  To  which  fortunate  Circum- 
stance the  Reader  is  mainly  indebted  for  Matter  of  thrilling  Interest  herein  set 
down,  concerning  two  great  public  Men  of  Might  and  Power         .         .         .  332 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

luTolriug  a  serious  Change  in  the  Weller  Family,  and  the  untimely  Downfall  of  the 

red-nosed  Mr.  Stiggins  .         .  .......  347 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

•omprising  the  final  Exit  of  Mr.  Jingle  and  Job  Trotter;  with  a  great  Morning  of  Busi- 
ness in  Gray's  Inn  Square.  Concluding  with  a  Double-Knock  at  Mr.  Perker's  Door.  "30 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

©oiitaining  some  Particulars  relative  to  the  Double-Knock,  and  other  Matters,  among 
which  certain  interesting  Disclosures  relative  to  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  a  young 
Jjftdy  are  by  no  means  irrelevant  to  this  History         .....  373^ 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  assisted  by  a  select  Committee  of  Coachmen,  arranges  the  Affairs  of 

the  elder  Mr.  Weller         ..........  300 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

An  important  Confei-ence  takes  place  between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Samuel  Weller,  at 
which  his  Parent  assists.  An  ohf  Gentleman  in  a  snuff-coloured  Suit  arrives  un- 
expectedly        .  .........  403 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

In  which  the  Pickwick  Club  is  Anally  dissolved,  and  Everything  concluded  to  the 

Satisfaction  of  Everybody         .         .  ......  416 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS 


OF 

THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  GOBLINS  WHO  STOLE  A  SEXTON. 

**In  an  old  abbey  town,  down  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  a  long,  long  while  ago — so  long,  that  the  story 
must  be  a  true  one,  because  our  great-grandfathers  im- 
plicitly believed  it — there  officiated  as  sexton  and  grave- 
digger  in  the  churchyard,  one  Gabriel  Grub.  It  by  no 
means  follows  that  because  a  man  is  a  sexton,  and  con- 
stantly surrounded  by  emblems  of  mortality,  therefore 
he  should  be  a  morose  and  melancholy  man;  your  un- 
dertakers are  the  merriest  fellows  in  the  world;  and  I 
once  had  the  honour  of  being  on  intimate  terms  with  a 
mute,  who  in  private  life,  and  off  duty,  was  as  comical 
and  jocose  a  little  fellow  as  ever  chirped  out  a  devil- 
may-care  song,  without  a  hitch  in  his  memory,  or  drained 
off  the  contents  of  a  good  stiff  glass  without  stopping 
for  breath.  But,  notwithstanding  these  precedents  to 
the  contrary,  Gabriel  Grub  was  an  ill-conditioned,  cross- 
grained,  surly  fellow — a  morose  and  lonely  man,  who 
consorted  with  nobody  but  himself,  and  an  old  wicker 
bottle  which  fitted  into  his  largo  deep  waistcoat  pocket — 
and  who  eyed  each  merry  face,  as  it  passed  him  by, 
with  such  a  deep  scowl  of  malice  and  ill-humour,  as  it 
was  difficult  to  meet  without  feeling  something  the 
worse  for. 

' '  A  little  before  twilight,  one  Christmas  Eve,  Gabriel 
shouldered  his  spade,  lighted  his  lantern,  and  betook 
himself  towards  the  old  churchyard;  for  he  had  got  a 
grave  to  finish  by  next  morning,  and  feeling  very  low, 
he  thought  it  might  raise  his  spirits,  perhaps,  if  he  went 
on  with  his  work  at  once.    As  ho  went  his  way,  up  the 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ancient  street,  he  saw  the  cheerful  light  of  the  blazing  J 
fires  gleam  through  the  old  casements,  and  heard  the  ] 
loud  laugh  and  the  cheerful  shouts  of  those  who  were  i 
assembled  around  them;  he  marked  the  bustling  prepara- 
tions for  next  day's  cheer,  and  smelt  the  jiumerous 
savory  odors  consequent  thereupon,  as  they  steamed  up 
from  the  kitchen  windows  in  clouds.  All  this  was  gall 
and  wormwood  to  the  heart  of  Gabriel  Grub;  and  when 
groups  of  children  bounded  out  of  the  houses,  tripped 
across  the  road,  and  were  met,  before  they  could  knock 
at  the  opposite  door,  by  half  a  dozen  curly-headed 
little  rascals  who  crowded  round  them  as  they  flocked 
up  stairs  to  spend  the  evening  in  their  Christmas  games, 
Gabriel  smiled  grimly,  and  clutched  the  handle  of  his 
spade  with  a  firmer  grasp  as  he  thought  of  measles, 
scarlet  fever,  thrush,  whooping-cough,  and  a  good  many 
other  sources  of  consolation  besides. 

'^In  this  happy  frame  of  mind,  Gabriel  strode  along: 
returning  a  short,  sullen  growl  to  the  good-humoured 
greetings  of  such  of  his  neighbors  as  now  and  then 
passed  him:  until  he  turned  into  the  dark  lane  which 
led  to  the  churchyard.  Now,  Gabriel  had  been  looking 
forward  to  reaching  the  dark  lane,  because  it  was,  gen- 
erally speaking,  a  nice,  gloomy,  mournful  place,  into 
which  the  towns-people  did  not  much  care  to  go,  except 
in  broad  day-light,  and  w^hen  the  sun  was  shining;  con- 
sequently, he  was  not  a  little  indignant  to  hear  a  young- 
urchin  roaring  out  some  jolly  song  about  a  merry  Christ- 
mas, in  this  very  sanctuary,  which  had  been  called  Cof- 
fin Lane  ever  since  the  days  of  the  old  abbey,  and  the 
time  of  the  shaven-headed  monks.  As  Gabriel  walked 
on,  and  the  voice  drew  nearer,  he  found  it  proceeded 
from  a  small  boy,  who  was  hurrjang  along,  to  join  one 
of  the  little  parties  in  the  old  street,  and  who,  partly  to 
keep  himself  company,  and  partly  to  prepare  himself 
for  the  occasion,  was  shouting  out  the  song  at  the  high- 
est pitch  of  his  lungs.  So  Gabriel  waited  until  the  boy 
came  up,  and  then  dodged  him  into  a  corner,  and  rapped 
him  over  the  head  with  his  lantern,  five  or  six  times,  to 
teach  him  to  modulate  his  voice.  And  as  the  boy  hur- 
ried away  with  his  hand  on  his  head,  singing  quite  a 
different  sort  of  tune,  Gabriel  Grub  chuckled  very 
heartily  to  himself,  and  entered  the  churchyard;  locking 
the  gate  behind  him. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


''He  took  off  his  coat,  put  down  his  lantern,  and  getting 
into  the  unfinished  grave,  worked  at  it  for  an  hour  or 
so  with  right  good  will.  But  the  earth  was  hardened 
with  the  frost,  and  it  was  no  very  easy  matter  to  break 
it  up,  and  shovel  it  out;  and  although  there  was  a  moon, 
it  was  a  .very  young  one,  and  shed  little  light  upon  the 
gra.ve,  which  was  in  the  shadow  of  the  church.  At  anj^ 
other  tifne,  these  obstacles  would  have  made  Gabriel 
Grub  very  moody  and  miserable,  but  he  was  so  well 
pleased  w'^ith  having  stopped  the  small  boy's  singing, 
that  he  took  little  heed  of  the  scanty  progress  he  had 
made,  and  looked  down  into  the  grave,  when  he  had 
finished  work  for  the  night,  with  grim  satisfaction:  mur- 
muring as  he  gathered  up  his  things: 

Brave  lodgings  for  one,  brave  lodgings  for  one, 
A  few  feet  of  cold  earth,  when  life  is  done; 
A  stone  at  the  head,  a  stone  at  the  feet, 
A  rich,  juicy  meal  for  the  worms  to  eat; 
Eank  grass  over  head,  and  damp  clay  around, 
Brave  lodgings  for  one,  these,  in  holy  ground! 

'^'Ho!  hoT  laughed  Gabriel  Grub,  as  he  sat  himself 
down  on  a  flat  tombstone,  which  was  a  favourite  resting- 
place  of  his;  and  drew  forth  his  wicker  bottle.  '  A  coffin 
at  Christmas!  A  Christmas  Box.    Ho!  ho!  ho!' 

"  '  Ho!  ho!  hoi'  repeated  a  voice  which  sounded  close 
behind  him. 

Gabriel  paused  in  some  alarm,  in  the  act  of  raising 
the  wicker  bottle  to  his  lips:  and  looked  round.  The 
bottom  of  the  oldest  grave  about  him  was  not  more  still 
and  quiet  than  the  churchyard  in  the  pale  moonlight. 
The  cold  hoarfrost  glistened  on  the  tombstones,  and 
sparkled  like  rows  of  gems  among  the  stone  carvings  of 
the  old  church.  The  sno  w  lay  hard  and  crisp  upon  the 
ground:  and  spread  over  the  thickly  strewn  mounds  of 
earth,  so  white  and  smooth  a  cover,  that  it  seeriied  as  if 
corpses  lay  there  hidden  only  by  their  winding  sheets. 
Nat  the  faintest  rustle  broke  the  profound  tranquility 
of  the  solemn  sc^ne.  Sound  itself  appeared  to  be  frozen 
up,  all  was  so  cold  and  still. 

'  It  was  the  echoes,'  said  Gabriel  Grub,  raising  the 
bottle  to  his  lips  again. 

'  It  was  not\'  said  a  deep  voice. 

Gabriel  started  up,  and  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  with 


4 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


astonishment  and  terror;  for  his  eyes  rested  on  a  form 
that  made  his  blood  run  cold. 

''Seated  on  an  upright  tombstone,  close  to  him,  was 
a  strange,  unearthly  figure,  whom  Gabriel  felt  at  once 
was  no  being  of  this  world.  His  long  fantastic  legs, 
which  might  have  reached  the  ground,  were  cocked  up, 
and  crossed  after  a  quaint,  fantastic  fashion;  his  sinewy 
arms  were  bare;  and  his  hands  rested  on  his  kne'es.  On 
his  short,  round  body,  he  wore  a  close  covering,  orna- 
mented with  small  slashes;  a  short  cloak  dangled  at  his 
back:  the  collar  was  cut  into  curious  peaks  which  served 
the  goblin  in  lieu  of  ruff  or  neckerchief;  and  his  shoes 
curled  up  at  the  toes  into  long  points.    On  his  head  he 


single  feather.  The  hat  was  covered  with  the  white 
frost;  and  the  goblin  looked  as  if  he  had  sat  on  the 
same  tombstone  very  comfortably,  for  two  or  three 
hundred  years.  He  was  sitting  perfectly  still;  his  tongue 
was  put  out  as  if  in  derision;  and  he  was  grinning  at 
Gabriel  Grub  with  such  a  grin  as  only  a  goblin  could 
call  up. 

•' '  It  was  not  the  echoes,'  said  the  goblin. 
''Gabriel  Grub  was  paralyzed,  and  could  make  no 
reply. 

"  'What  do  you  do  here  on  Christmas  Eve?'  said  the 
goblin,  sternly. 

"  '  I  came  to  dig  a  grave,  sir,'  stammered  Gabriel  Grub. 

"  '  What  man  wanders  among  graves  and  churchyards 
on  such  a  night  as  this?'  cried  the  goblin. 

'"Gabriel  Grub!  Gabriel  Grub!'  screamed  a  wild 
chorus  of  voices  that  seemed  to  fill  the  churchyard. 
Gabriel  looked  fearfully  round — nothing  was  to  be  seen. 

"  '  What  have  you  got  in  that  bottle?'  said  the  goblin. 

'"Hollands,  sir,'  replied  the  sexton,  trembling  more 
than  ever;  for  he  had  bought  it  of  the  smugglers,  and  he 
thought  that  perhaps  his  questioner  might  be  in  the 
excise  department  of  the  goblins. 

"  'Who  dfinks  Hollands  alone,  and  in  a  churchyard, 
on  such  a  night  as  this?'  said  the  goblin. 

"'Gabriel  Grub!  Gabriel  Grub!'  exclaimed  the  wild 
voices  again. 

"  The  goblin  leered  maliciously  at  the  terrified  sexton, 
and  then  raising  his  voice,  exclaimed: 

"  '  And  who,  then,  is  our  fair  and  lawful  prize?' 


wore  a  broad-brimmed  sugar- 


a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


S 


^^To  this  inquiry  the  invisible  chorus  replied,  in  a 
strain  that  sounded  like  the  voices  of  many  choristers 
singing  to  the  mighty  swell  of  the  old  church  organ — a 
strain  that  seemed  borne  to  the  sexton's  ears  upon  a 
wild  wind,  and  to  die  away  as  it  passed  onward — but 
the  burden  of  the  reply  was  still  the  same,  '  Gabriel 
Grub!  Gabriel  Grub!' 

"  The  goblin  grinned  a  broader  grin  than  before,  as  he 
said,    Well,  Gabriel,  what  do  you  say  to  this?' 

"  The  sexton  gasped  for  breath. 

^'  ^  What  do  you  think  of  this,  Gabriel?'  said  the  gob- 
lin, kicking  up  his  feet  in  the  air  on  either  side  of  the 
tombstone,  and  looking  at  the  turned-up  points  with  as 
much  complacency  as  if  he  had  been  contemplating  the 
most  fashionable  pair  of  Wellingtons  in  all  Bond  Street. 

'It's — it's — very  curious,  sir,'  replied  the  sexton,  half 
dead  with  fright;  '  very  curious,  and  very  pretty,  but  I 
think  I'll  go  back  and  finish  my  work,  sir,  if  you  please.' 
'Work!'  said  the  goblin,  'what  work?' 

"  'The  grave,  sir;  making  the  grave,'  stammered  the 
sexton.  • 

"'Oh,  the  grave,  eh?' said  the  goblin;  'who  makes 
graves  at  a  time  when  all  other  men  are  merry,  and 
takes  a  pleasure  in  it  ? ' 

"Again  the  mysterious  voices  replied,  '  Gabriel  Grub  I 
Gabriel  Grub!' 

"  'I'm  afraid  my  friends  want  you,  Gabriel,'  said  the 
goblin,  thrusting  his  tongue  further  into  his  cheek  than 
ever — and  a  most  astonishing  tongue  it  was — '  I'm  afraid 
my  friends  want  you,  Gabriel,'  said  the  goblin. 

'"Under  favour,  sir,'  replied  the  horror-stricken  sex- 
ton, 'I  don't  think  they  can,  sir;  they  don't  know  me, 
sir;  I  don't  think  the  gentlemen  have  ever  seen  me, 
sir.' 

'"Oh  yes,  they  have,' replied  the  goblin;  'we  know 
the  man  with  the  sulky  face  and  the  grim  scowl,  that 
came  down  the  street  to-night,  throwing  his  evil  looks 
at  the  children,  and  grasping  his  burying  spade  the 
tighter.  We  know  the  man  who  struck  the  boy  in  the 
envious  malice  of  his  heart,  because  the  boy  could  be 
merry,  and  he  could  not.  We  know  him,  we  know 
him.' 

"  Here  the  goblin  gave  a  loud,  shrill  laugh,  which  the 
echoes  returned  twenty  fold;  and  throwing  his  legs  up 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


in  the  air,  stood  upon  his  head,  or  rather  upon  the  very 
point  of  his  sugar-loaf  hat,  on  the  narrow  edge  of  the 
tombstone;  whence  he  threw  a  somersault  with  extra- 
ordinary agility,  right  to  the  sexton's  feet,  at  which  he 
planted  himself  in  the  attitude  in  which  tailors  gene- 
rally sit  upon  the  shop-board. 

'  I — I — am  afraid  I  must  leave  you,  sir,'  said  the  sex- 
ton, making  an  effort  to  move. 

'Leave  us!'  said  the  goblin,  'Gabriel  Grub  going  to 
leave  us.    Ho!  ho!  ho!' 

"  As  the  goblin  laughed,  the  sexton  observed,  for  one 
instant,  a  brilliant  illumination  within  the  windows  of 
the  church,  as  if  the  whole  building  were  lighted  up;  it 
disappeared,  the  organ  pealed  forth  a  lively  air,  and 
whole  troops  of  goblins,  the  very  counterpart  of  the  first 
one,  poured  into  the  churchyard,  and  began  playing  at 
leap-frog  with  the  tombstones;  never  stopping  for  an 
instant  to  take  breath,  but  'overing'  the  highest  among 
them,  one  after  the  other,  with  the  most  marvellous 
dexterity.  The  first  goblin  was  a  most  astonishing 
leaper,  an-d.  none  of  the  others  could  come  near  him; 
even  in  the  extremity  of  his  terror  the  sexton  could  not 
help  observing,  that  while  his  friends  were  content  to 
leap  over  the  common-sized  gravestones,  the  first  one 
took  the  family  vaults,  iron  railings  and  all,  vv^-ith  as  much 
ease  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  street  posts. 

''At  last  the  game  reached  to  a  most  exciting  pitch; 
the  organ  played  quicker  and  quicker;  and  the  goblins 
leaped  faster  and  faster;  coiling  themselves  up,  rolling 
head  over  heels  upon  the  ground,  and  bounding  over  the 
tombstones  like  foot-balls.  The  sexton's  brain  whirled 
round  with  the  rapidity  of  the  motion  he  beheld,  and  his 
legs  reeled  beneath  him,  as  the  spirits  flew  before  his 
eyes:  when  the  goblin  king,  suddenly  darting  towards 
him,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  'collar,  and  sank  with  him 
through  the  earth. 

"  When  Gabriel  Grub  had  had  time  to  fetch  his  breath, 
which  the  rapidity  of  his  descent  had  for  the  moment 
taken  away,  he  found  himself  in  what  appeared  to  be  a 
large  cavern,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  crowds  of  gob- 
lins, ugly  and  grim;  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  on  an 
elevated  seat,  was  stationed  his  friend  of  the  church- 
yard; and  close  beside  him  stood  Gabriel  Grub  himself, 
without  the  power  of  motion. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


7 


^  Cold  to-night/ said  the  king  of  the  goblins,  ^very 
cold.    A  glass  of  something  warm,  here!' 

"  At  this  command,  half  a  dozen  officious  goblins,  with 
a  perpetual  smile  upon  their  faces,  whom  Gabriel  Grub 
imagined  to  be  courtiers,  on  that  account,  hastily  disap- 
peared, and  presently  returned  with  a  goblet  of  liquid 
fire,  which  they  presented  to  the  king. 

'"'Ah!'  cried  the  goblin,  whose  cheeks  and  throat 
were  transparent,  as  he  tossed  down  the  flame,  '  This 
warms  one,  indeed!  Bring  a  bumper  of  the  same  for 
Mr.  Grub.' 

"  It  was  in  vain  for  the  unfortunate  sexton  to  protest 
that  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  taking  anything  warm 
at  night;  one  of  the  goblins  held  him  while  another 
poured  the  blazing  liquid  down  his  throat;  the  whole 
assembly  screeched  with  laughter  as  he  coughed  and 
choked,  and  wiped  away  the  tears  which  gushed  plenti- 
fully from  his  eyes,  after  swallowing  the  burning 
draught. 

"  'And  now,'  said  the  king,  fantastically  poking  the 
taper  corner  of  his  sugar-loaf  hat  into  the  sexton's  eye, 
and  thereby  occasioning  him  the  most  exquisite  pain: 
'  And  now  show  the  man  of  misery  and  gloom  a  few  of 
the  pictures  from  our  great  store-house.' 

"As  the  goblin  said  this,  a  thick  cloud  which  obscured 
the  remoter  end  of  the  cavern  rolled  gradually  away, 
and  disclosed,  apparently  at  a  great  distance,  a  small 
and  scantily  furnished,  but  neat  and  clean,  apartment. 
A  crowd  of  little  children  were  gathered  round  a  bright 
fire,  clinging  to  their  mother's  gown,  and  gambolling 
around  her  chair.  The  mother  occasionally  rose,  and 
drew  aside  the  window-curtain,  as  if  to  look  for  some 
expected  object;  a  frugal  meal  was  ready  spread  upon 
the  table;  and  an  elbow-chair  was  placed  near  the  fire. 
A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door:  the  mother  opened  it, 
and  the  children  crowded  round  her,  and  clapped  their 
hands  for  joy  as  their  father  entered.  He  was  wet  and 
weary,  and  shook  the  snow  from  his  garments  as  the 
children  crowded  round  him,  and  seizing  his  cloak,  hat 
stick,  and  gloves,  with  busy  zeal,  ran  with  them  from 
the  room.  Then,  as  he  sat  down  to  his  meal  before  the 
fire,  the  children  climbed  about  his  knee,  and  the  mother 
sat  by  his  side,  and  all  seemed  happiness  and  comfort. 

"  But  a  change  came  upon  the  view,  almost  imper- 


8  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ceptibly.  The  scene  was  altered  to  a  small  bed-room, 
where  the  fairest  and  youngest  child  lay  dyin^;  the 
roses  had  fled  from  his  cheek,  and  the  light  from  his  eye; 
and  even  as  the  sexton  looked  upon  him,  with  an  inter- 
est ♦he.  had  never  felt  or  known  before,. he  died.  His 
young  brothers  and  sisters  crowded  round  his  little  bed, 
and  seized  his  tiny  hand,  so  cold  and  heavy;  but  they 
shrunk  back  from  its  touch,  and  looked  with  awe  on  his 
infant  face;  for  calna  and  tranquil  as  it  was,  and  sleep- 
ing in  rest  and  peace  as  the  beautiful  child  seemed  to 
be,  they  saw  that  he  was  dead,  and  they  knew  that  he 
was  an  Angel  looking  down  upon  and  blessing  them, 
from  a  bright  and  happy  Heaven. 

''Again  the  light  cloud  passed  across  the  picture,  and 
again  the  subject  changed.  The  father  and  mother 
were  old  and  helpless  now,  and  the  number  of  those 
about  them  was  diminished  more  than  half;  but  content 
and  cheerfulness  sat  on  every  face,  and  beamed  in  every 
eye,  as  they  crowded  round  the  fireside,  and  told 
and  listened  to  old  stories  of  earlier  and  bygone 
days.  Slowly  and  peacefully,  the  father  sank  into,  the 
grave,  and,  soon  after,  the  sharer  of  all  his  cares  and 
troubles  followed  him  to  a  place  of  rest.  The  few  who 
yet  survived  them  knelt  by  their  tomb,  and  watered  the 
green  turf  which  covered  it  with  their  tears;  then  rose, 
and  turned  away,  sadly  and  mournfully,  but  not  with 
bitter  cries,  or  despairing  lamentations,  for  they  knew 
that  they  should  one  day  meet  again;  and  once  more 
they  mixed  with  the  busy  world,  and  their  content  and 
cheerfulness  were  restored.  The  cloud  settled  upon  the 
picture,  and  concealed  it  from  the  sexton's  view, 

"  '  What  do  you  think  of  that?'  said  the  goblin,  turn- 
ing his  large  face  towards  Gabriel  Grub. 

''Gabriel  murmured  out  something  about  its  being 
very  pretty,  and  looked  somewhat  ashamed,  as  the  gob- 
lin bent  his  fiery  eyes  upon  him. 

"  '  You  a  miserable  man! '  said  the  goblin,  in  a  tone  of 
excessive  contempt.  'You!'  He  appeared  disposed  to 
add  more,  but  indignation  choked  his  utterance,  so  he 
lifted  up  one  of  his  very  pliable  legs,  and  flourishing  it 
above  his  head  a  little,  to  insure  his  aim,  administered  a 
good  sound  kick  to  Gabriel  Grub;  immediately  after 
which  all  the  goblins  in  waiting  crowded  round  the 
wretched  sexton,  and  kicked  him  without  mercy:  ac- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


cording  to  the  established  and  invariable  custom  of 
courtiers  upon  earth,  who  kick  whom  royalty  kicks,  and 
hug  whom  royalty  hugs. 

'  Show  him  some  more!  ^  said  the  king  of  the  goblins. 

At  these  words,  the  cloud  was  again  dispelled,  and  a 
rich  and  beautiful  landscape  was  disclosed  to  view — 
there  is  just  such  another,  to  this  day,  within  half  a  mile 
of  the  old  abbey  town.  The  sun  shone  from  out  the 
clear  blue  sky,  the  water  sparkled  beneath  his  rays, 
and  the  trees  looked  greener,  and  the  flowers  more 
gay,  beneath  his  cheering  influence.  The  water  rip- 
pled on,  with  a  pleasant  sound;  the  trees  rustled  in 
the  light  wind  that  murmured  among  their  leaves; 
the  birds  sang  upon  the  boughs;  and  the  lark  carolled 
on  high,  her  welcome  to  the  morning.  Yes,  it 
was  morning:  the  bright,  balmy  morning  of  the  sum- 
mer; the  minutest  leaf,  the  smallest  blade  of  grass,  was 
instinct  with  life.  The  ant  crept  forth  to  her  daily  toil, 
the  butterfly  fluttered  and  basked  in  the  warm  rays  of 
the  sun;  myriads  of  insects  spread  their  transparent 
wings,  and  revelled  in  their  brief  but  happy  existence. 
Man  walked  forth,  elated  with  the  scene;  and  all  was 
brightness  and  splendour. 

"'You  a  miserable  man?'  said  the  king  of  the 
goblins,  in  a  more  contemptuous  tone  than  before.  And 
again  the  king  of  the  goblins  gave  his  leg  a  flourish; 
again  it  descended  on  the  shoulders  of  the  sexton;  and 
again  the  attendant  goblins  imitated  the  example  of 
their  chief. 

"  Many  a  time  the  cloud  went  and  came,  and  many  a 
lesson  it  taught  to  Gabriel  Grub,  who,  although  his 
shoulders  smarted  with  pain  from  the  frequent  applica- 
tions of  the  goblin's  feet,  looked  on  with  an  interest  that 
nothing  could  diminish.  He  saw  that  men  who  worked 
hard,  and  earned  their  scanty  bread  with  lives  of 
labour,  were  cheerful  and  happy;  and  that  to  the  most 
ignorant,  the  sweet  face  of  nature  was  a  never-failing 
source  of  cheerfulness  and  joy.  He  saw  those  who  had 
been  delicately  nurtured,  and  tenderly  brought  up,  cheer- 
ful under  privations,  and  superior  to  suffering,  that 
would  have  crushed  many  of  a  rougher  grain,  because 
they  bore  within  their  own  bosoms  the  materials  of 
happiness,  contentment  and  peace.  He  saw  that  women, 
the  tenderest  and  most  fragile  of  all  God's  creatures, 


10  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


were  the  oftenest  superior  to  sorrow,  adversity,  and  dis- 
tress; and  he  saw  that  it  was  because  they  bore,  in  their 
own  hearts,  an  inexhaustible  well-spring  of  affection 
and  devotion.  Above  all,  he  saw  that  men  like  himself, 
who  snarled  at  the  mirth  and  cheerfulness  of  others, 
were  the  foulest  weeds  on  the  fair  surface  of  the  earth; 
and  setting  all  the  good  of  the  world  against  the  evil, 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a  very  decent  and 
respectable  sort  of  world  after  all.  No  sooner  had  he 
formed  it,  than  the  cloud  which  had  closed  over  the  last 
picture  seemed  to  settle  on  his  senses,  and  lull  him  to 
repose.  One  by  one  the  goblins  faded  from  his  sight; 
and  as  the  last  one  disappeared,  he  sunk  to  sleep. 

"  The  day  had  broken  when  Gabriel  Grub  awoke,  and 
found  himself  lying  at  full  length  on  the  flat  grave- 
stone in  the  churchyard,  with  the  wicker  bottle  lying 
empty  by  his  side,  and  his  coat,  spade,  and  lantern,  all 
well  whitened  by  the  last  night's  frost,  scattered  on  the 
ground.  The  stone  on  which  he  had  first  seen  the  goblin 
seated,  stood  bolt  upright  before  him,  and  the  grave  at 
which  he  had  worked,  the  night  before,  was  not  far  off. 
At  first,  he  began  to  doubt  the  reality  of  his  adventures, 
but  the  acute  pain  in  his  shoulders  when  he  attempted 
to  rise,  assured  him  that  the  kicking  of  the  goblins  was 
certainly  not  ideal.  He  was  staggered  again,  by  ob- 
serving no  traces  of  footsteps  in  the  snow  on  which  the 
goblins  had  played  at  leap-frog  with  the  gravestones, 
but  he  speedily  accounted  for  this  circumstance  when  he 
remembered  that,  being  spirits,  they  would  leave  no 
visible  impression  behind  them.  So,  Gabriel  Grub  got 
on  his  feet  as  well  as  he  could,  for  the  pain  in  his  back; 
and  brushing  the  frost  off  his  coat,  put  it  on,  and  turned 
his  face  towards  the  town. 

But  he  was  an  altered  man,  and  he  could  not  bear 
the  thought  of  returning  to  a  place  where  his  repentance 
would  be  scoffed  at,  and  his  reformation  disbelieved. 
He  hesitated  for  a  few  moments;  and  then  turned  away 
to  wander  where  he  might  and  seek  his  bread  else- 
where. 

'^The  lantern,  the  spade,  and  the  wicker  bottle  were 
found,  that  day,  in  the  churchyard.  There  were  a  great 
many  speculations  about  the  sexton's  fate,  at  first,  but 
it  was  speedily  determined  that  he  had  been  carried 
away  by  the  goblins;  and  there  were  not  wanting  some 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  11 

very  credible  witnesses  who  had  distinctly  seen  him 
whisked  through  the  air  on  the  back  of  a  chestnut 
horse,  blind  of  one  eye,  with  the  hind-quarters  of  a  lion, 
and  the  tail  of  a  bear.  At  length  all  this  was  devoutly 
believed;  and  the  new  sexton  used  to  exhibit  to  the 
curious,  for  a  trifling  emolument,  a  good-sized  piece  of 
the  church  weathercock  which  had  been  accidentally 
kicked  off  by  the  aforesaid  horse  in  his  aerial  iiight,  and 
picked  up  by  himself  in  the  churchyard,  a  year  or  two 
afterwards. 

"  Unfortunately,  these  stories  were  somewhat  dis- 
turbed by  the  unlooked-for  re-appearance  of  Gabriel 
Grub  himself,  some  ten  years  afterwards,  a  ragged,  con- 
tented, rheumatic  old  man.  He  told  his  story  to  the 
clergyman,  and  also  to  the  mayor;  and  in  course  of  time 
it  began  to  be  received,  as  a  matter  of  history,  in  which 
form  it  has  continued  down  to  this  very  day.  The 
believers  in  the  weathercock  tale,  having  misplaced  their 
confidence  once,  were  not  easily  prevailed  upon  to  part 
with  it  again,  so  they  looked  as  wise  as  they  could, 
shrugged  their  shoulders,  touched  their  foreheads,  and 
murmured  something  about  Gabriel  Grub  having  drunk 
all  the  Hollands,  and  then  fallen  asleep  on  the  flat  tomb- 
stone; and  they  affected  to  explain  what  he  supposed  he 
had  witnessed  in  the  goblin's  cavern,  by  saying  that  he 
had  seen  the  world,  and  grown  wiser.  But  this  opinion, 
which  was  by  no  means  a  popular  one  at  any  time, 
gradually  died  off;  and  be  the  matter  how  it  may,  as 
Gabriel  Grub  was  afflicted  with  rheumatism  to  the  end 
of  his  days,  this  story  has  at  least  one  moral,  if  it  teach 
no  better  one — and  that  is,  that  if  a  man  turn  sulky  and 
drink  by  himself  at  Christmas  time,  he  may  make  up 
his  mind  to  be  not  a  bit  the  better  for  it;  let  the  spirits 
be  never  so  good,  or  let  them  be  even  as  many  degrees 
beyond  proof,  as  those  which  Gabriel  Grub  saw  in  the 
goblin's  cavern." 


12  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  n. 

HOW  THE  PICKWICKIANS  MADE  AND  CUDTIVATED  THE  AC- 
QUAINTANCE OF  A  COUPLE  OF  NICE  YOUNG  MEN  BE- 
LONGING TO  ONE  OF  THE  LIBERAL  PROFESSIONS;  HOW 
THEY  DISPORTED  THEMSELVES  ON  THE  ICE;  AND  HOW 
THEIR  FIRST  VISIT  CAME  TO  A  CONCLUSION. 

''Well,  Sam/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  that  favoured 
servitor  entered  his  bed-chamber  with  his  warm  water, 
on  the  morning  of  Christmas  Day,    still  frosty?" 

"  Water  in  the  wash-hand  basin's  a  mask  o'  ice,  sir," 
responded  Sam. 

"Severe  weather,  Sam,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Fine  time  for  them  as  is  well  propped  up,  as  the 
Polar  Bear  said  to  himself,  ven  he  was  practising  his 
skating,"  replied  Mr.  Weller." 

"I  shall  be  down  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Sam,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  untying  his  nightcap. 

"Werry  good,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  "There's  a  couple 
o'  Sawbones  down  stairs." 

"A  couple  of  what!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  sitting 
up  in  bed. 

"A  couple  o'  Sawbones,"  said  Sam. 

"  What's  aSawbone?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  not  quite 
certain  whether  it  was  a  live  animal,  or  something  to  eat. 

"  What!  don't  you  know  what  a  Sawbones  is,  sir?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller;  "  I  thought  everybody  know'd  as  a 
Sawbones  was  a  Surgeon." 

"Oh,  a  Surgeon,  eh?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  smile. 

"Just  that,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  "These  here  ones  as 
is  below,  though,  aint  reg'lar  thorough-bred  Sawbones; 
they're  only  in  trainin'." 

"  In  other  words,  they're  Medical  Students,  I  suppose?" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  Weller  nodded  assent. 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  casting  his 
nightcap  energetically  on  the  counterpane.  ' '  They  are 
fine  fellows;  very  fine  fellows;  with  judgments  matured 
by  observation  and  reflection;  and  tastes  refined  by  read- 
ing and  study;  I  am  very  glad  of  it." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


13 


They're  a  smokiir  cigars  by  the  kitchen  fire,"  said 
Sam. 

''Ah!"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  his  hands, 
''overflowing  with  kindly  feelings  and  animal  spirits. 
Just  what  I  like  to  seel" 

**' And  one  on  'em,"  said  Sam,  not  noticing  his  mas- 
ter's interruption,  "  one  on  'em's  got  his  legs  on  the  table, 
and  is  a  drinkin'  brandy  neat,  vile  the  tother  one — liim 
in  the  barnacles — has  got  a  barrel  o'  oysters  atween  his 
knees,  wich  he's  a  openin'  like  steam,  and  as  fast  as  he 
eats  'em,  he  takes  a  aim  vith  the  shells  at  young 
dropsy,  who's  a  sittin'  down  fast  asleep  in  the  chimbley 
corner." 

"Eccentricities  of  genius,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  You  may  retire." 

Sam  did  retire  accordingly;  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  the  ex- 
piration of  the  quarter  of  an  hour,  went  down  to  break- 
fast. 

"Here  he  is  at  last!"  said  old  Wardle.  "Pickwick, 
this  is  Miss  Allen's  brother,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen — Ben 
we  call  him,  and  so  may  you  if  you  like.  This  gentle- 
mantis  his  very  particular  friend,  Mr. — " 

"Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,"  interposed  Mr.  Benjamin  Ailen; 
whereupon  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen 
laughed  in  concert. 

Mr.  Pickvv^ick  bowed  to  Bob  Sawyer,  and  Bob  Sawyer 
bowed  to  Mr.  Pickwick;  Bob  and  his  very  particular 
friend  then  applied  themselves  most  assiduously  to  the 
eatables  before  them;  and  Mr.  Pickvvick  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  glancing  at  them  both. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  was  a  coarse,  stout,  thick -set 
young  man,  with  black  hair  cut  rather  short,  an  1  <\ 
white  face  cut  rather  long.  He  was  embellislied  v/i*^]i 
spectacles,  and  v/ore  a  white  neckerchief.  Below  his 
single-breasted  black  surtout,  which  was  buttoned  up  to 
his  cliin,  appeared  the  usual  number  of  pepper-and-salt 
coloured  legs,  terminating  in  a  pair  of  imperfectly 
])olished  boots.  Although  bis  coat  was  short  in  tlie 
ieeves,  it  disclosed  no  vestige  of  a  linen  vv^ristband;  and 
although  there  was  quite  enough  of  his  face  to  admit  of 
the  encroachment  of  a  shirt  collar,  it  was  not  graced  by 
the  smallest  approach  to  that  appendage.  He  presented, 
altogether,  rather  a  mildewy  appearance:  and  emitted  a 
fragrant  odour  of  full-flavoured  Cubas. 


14  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  was  habited  in  a  coarse  blue 
coat,  which,  without  being  either  a  great-coat  or  a  sur- 
tout,  partook  of  the  nature  and  qualities  of  both,  had 
about  him  that  sort  of  slovenly  smartness,  and  swagger- 
ing gait,  which  is  peculiar  to  young  gentlemen  wl^o 
smoke  in  the  streets  by  day,  shout  and  scream  in  the 
same  by  night,  call  waiters  by  their  Christian  names, 
and  do  various  other  acts  and  deeds  of  an  equally  face- 
tious description.  He  wore  a  pair  of  plaid  trousers,  and 
a  large  rough  double-breasted  waistcoat;  and  out  of 
doors  carried  a  thick  stick  with  a  big  top.  He  eschewed 
gloves:  and  looked,  upon  the  whole,  something  like  a 
dissipated  Robinson  Crusoe. 

Such  were  the  two  worthies  to  whom  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  introduced,  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  breakfast 
table  on  Christmas  morning. 

Splendid  morning,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  slightly  nodded  his  assent  to  the  pro- 
position, and  asked  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  for  the  mustard. 

"Have  you  come  far  this  morning,  gentlemen?"  in- 
quired Mr:  Pickwick. 

''Blue  Lion  at  Muggleton,"  briefly  responded"  Mr. 
Alleh. 

''You  should  have  joined  us  last  night,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick, 

"  So  we  should,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  "  but  the  brandy 
was  too  good  to  leave  in  a  hurry:  wasn't  it,  Ben?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen;  "and  the 
cigars  were  not  bad,  or  the  pork  chops  either:  were  they 
Bob?" 

"  Decidedly  not,"  said  Bob.  The  particular  friends  re- 
sumed their  attack  upon  the  breakfast,  more  freely  than 
before,  as  if  the  recollection  of  last  night's  supper  had 
imparted  a  new  relish  to  the  meal.  ' 

"Peg  away.  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Allen  to  his  companion, 
encouragingly. 

"So  I  do,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  And  so,  to  do  him 
justice,  he  did. 

"Nothing  like  dissecting,  to  give  one  an  appetite," 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  looking  round  the  table. 

Mr.  Pickwick  slightly  shuddered. 

"  By  the  by.  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  "have  you  finished 
that  leg  yet?" 

"Nearly,"  replied  Sawyer,  helping  himself  to  half  a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


15 


fowl  as  he  spoke.  ''It's  a  very  muscular  one  for  a 
child's." 

"  Is  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Allen,  carelessly. 

''Very,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  with  his  mouth  full. 

"I've  put  my  name  down  for  an  arm,  at  our  place," 
skid  Mr.  Allen.  "  We're  clubbing  for  a  subject,  and  the 
list  is  nearly  full,  only  we  can't  get  hold  of  any  fellow 
that  wants  a  head.    I  wish  you'd  take  it." 

"No,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer-  "can't  afford  expensive 
luxuries." 

"  Nonsense!"  said  Allen. 

"Can't  indeed,"  rejoined  Bob  Sawyer.  "I  wouldn't 
mind  a  brain,  but  I  couldn't  stand  a  whole  head." 

"Hush,  hush,  gentlemen,  pray,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"I  hear  the  ladies." 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  spoke,  the  ladies,  gallantly  escorted 
by  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Winkle,  and  Tupman,  returned 
from  an  early  walk. 

"  Why,  Ben!"  said  Arabella,  in  a  tone  which  expressed 
more  surprise  than  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  her  brother. 

"Come  to  take  you  home  to-morrow,"  replied  Ben- 
jamin. 

Mr.  Winkle  turned  pkle. 

"Don't  you  see  Bob  Sawyer,  Arabella?"  inquired  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen,  somewhat  reproachfully.  Arabella 
gracefully  held  out  her  hand,  in  acknowledgment  of 
Bob  Sawyer's  presence.  A  thrill  of  hatred  struck  to 
Mr.  Winkle's  heart  as  Bob  Sawyer  inflicted  on  the  prof- 
fered hand  a  perceptible  squeeze. 

"Ben,  dear!"  said  Arabella,  blushing;  "  have — have — 
you  been  introduced  to  Mr.  Winkle?" 

"  I  have  not  been,  but  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  be,  Ara- 
bella," replied  her  brother,  gravely.  Here  Mr.  Allen 
bowed  grimly  to  Mr.  Winkle,  while  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  glanced  mutual  distrust  out  of  the  corners 
of  their  eyes. 

The  arrival  of  the  two  new  visitors,  and  the  consequent 
check  upon  Mr.  Winkle  and  the  young  lady  with  the  fur 
round  her  boots,  would  in  all  probability  have  proved  a 
very  unpleasant  interruption  to  the  hilarity  of  the  party, 
had  not  the  cheerfulness  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  the  good 
humour  of  the  host,  been  exerted  to  the  very  utmost  for 
the  common  weal.  Mr.  Winkle  graduallj^  insinuated 
himself  into  the  good  graces  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen, 


16  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  even  joined  in  a  friendly  conversation  with  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer;  who,  enlivened  with  the  brandy,  and  the  break- 
fast, and  the  talking,  gradually  ripened  into  a  state  of 
extreme  facetiousness,  and  related  with  much  glee  an 
agreeable  anecdote  about  the  removal  of  a  tumour  on 
some  gentleman's  head:  which  he  illustrated  by  means 
of  an  oyster  knife  and  a  half -quartern  loaf,  to  the  great 
edification  of  the  assembled  company.  Then  the  whole 
train  went  to  church,  where  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  fell 
fast  asleep:  while  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  abstracted  his 
thoughts  from  worldly  matters  by  the  ingenious  process 
of  carving  his  name  on  the  seat  of  the  pew  in  corpulent 
letters  of  four  inches  long. 

''Now,"  said  Wardle,  after  a  substantial  lunch,  with 
the  agreeable  items  of  strong  beer  and  cherry-brandy, 
had  been  done  ample  justice  to;  ''what  say  you  to  an 
hour  on  the  ice?  We  shall  have  plenty  of  time.'' 

"  Capital!"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen.  . 

"  Prime!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"You  skait,  of  course.  Winkle?"  said  Wardle. 

"Ye — yes,  oh,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  "I — — am 
rather  out  of  practice." 

"  Oh,  do  skait,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  Arabella.  "  I  hke 
to  see  it  so  much." 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  graceful,"  said  another  young  lady. 

A  third  young  lady  said  it  was  elegant,  and  a  fourth 
expressed  her  opinion  that  it  was  "  swan-like." 

"  I  should  be  very  happy,  Fm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
reddening;  "  but  I  have  no  skaits." 

This  objection  was  at  once  overruled.  Trundle  had  a 
couple  of  pair,  and  the  fat  boy  announced  that  there 
were  half-a-dozen  more  down  stairs:  whereat  Mr. 
Winkle  expressed  exquisite  delight,  and  looked  exquis- 
itely uncomfortable. 

Old  Wardle  led  the  way  to  a  pretty  large  sheet  of  ice; 
and  the  fat  boy  and  Mr.  Weller  having  shovelled  and 
swept  away  the  snow  which  had  fallen  during  the  night, 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  adjusted  his  skaits  with  a  dexterity 
which  to  Mr.  Winkle  was  perfectly  marvellous,  and 
described  circles  with  his  left  leg,  and  cut  figures  of 
eight;  and  inscribed  upon  the  ice,  without  once  stopping 
for  breath,  a  great  many  other  pleasant  and  astonishing 
devices,  to  the  excessive  satisfaction  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
Mr,  TupmaH;  and  the  ladies:  which  reached  a  pitch  of 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


17 


positive  enthusiasm,  when  old  Wardle  and  Benjamin 
Allen,  assisted  by  the  aforesaid  Bob  Saw}  er,  performed 
some  mystic  evolutions  which  they  called  a  reel. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Winkle,  with  his  face  and  hands 
blue  with  the  cold,  had  been  forcing  a  gimlet  into  the 
oles  of  his  feet,  and  putting  his  skaits  on  with  the 

oints  behind,  and  getting  the  straps  into  a  very  com- 

icated  and  entangled  state,  with  the  assistance  of  Mr. 
_aodgrass,  who  knew  rather  less  about  skaits  than  a 
Hindoo.  At  length,  however,  with  the  assistance  of 
Mr.  Weller,  the  unfortunate  skaits  v/ere  firmly  screwed 
and  buckled  on,  and  Mr.  Winkle  was  raised  to  his  feet. 

iSiOW  then,  sir,'"  said  Sam,  in  an  encouraging  tone, 
"  off  with  you,  and  show  'em  how  to  do  it." 

•"Stop,  Sam,  stop!"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  vio- 
lently, and  clutching  hold  of  Sam's  arms  with  the  grasp 
of  a  drowning  man.      Hov/  slippery  it  is,  Sam  !  " 

''Not  an  uncommon  thing  upon  ice,  sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller.    "  Hold  up,  sir  !  " 

This  last  observation  of  Mr.  Weller's  bore  reference 
to  a  demonstration  Mr.  Winkle  made  at  the  instant  of  a 
frantic  desire  to  throw  his  feet  in  the  air  and  dash  the 
back  of  his  head  on  the  ice. 

''These — these — are  very  awkward  skaits;  ain't  they, 
am?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  staggering. 

"  Fm  afeerd  there's  an  orkard  genTm'n  in  'em,  sir," 
replied  Sam. 

"'Now,  Winkle,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  uncon- 
scious that  there  was  anything  the  matter.  "Come; 
the  ladies  are  all  anxiety." 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  with  a  ghastly  smile, 
•  I'm  coming." 

"Just  a  goin' to  begin,"  said  Sam,  endeavouring  to 
disengage  himself.    "  Now,  sir,  start  off." 

"Stop  an  instant,  Sam,"  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  clinging 
juost  affectionately  to  Mr.  Weller.  "  I  find  I've  got  a 
couple  of  coats  at  home  that  I  don't  want,  Sam.  You 
may  have  them,  Sam." 

"Thank'ee,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"Never  mind  touching  your  hat,  Sam,'  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  hastily.  "You  needn't  take  your  hand  away 
to  do  that.  I  meant  to  have  given  you  five  shillings 
this  morning  for  a  Christmas-box,  Sam.  I'll  give  it  you 
this  afternoon,  Sam." 


18 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


You're  werry  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

^'Just  hold  me  at  first,  Sam,  will  you?"  said  Mr. 
Winkle.  ''There — that's  right.  I  shall  soon  get  in  the 
way  of  it,  Sam.    Not  too  fast,  Sam  ;  not  too  fast." 

Mr.  Winkle,  stooping  forward  with  his  body  half 
doubled  up,  was  being  assisted  over  the  ice  by  Mr.  Weller 
in  a  very  singular  and  un-swan-like  manner,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  most  innocently  shouted  from  the  opposite 
bank  : 

a  Sam  ! " 

''Sir?  "  said  Mr.  Weller. 
"  Here.    I  want  j^ou.  " 

"  Let  go,  sir,"  said  Sam.  "  Don't  you  hear  the  governor 
a  callin'?   Let  go,  sir." 

With  a  violent  effort  Mr.  Weller  disengaged  himself 
from  the  grasp  of  the  agonized  Pickwickian,  and  in  so 
doing  administered  a  considerable  impetus  to  the  un- 
happy Mr.  Winkle.  With  an  accuracy  which  no  degree 
of  dexterity  or  practice  could  have  insured,  that  unfor- 
tunate gentleman  bore  swiftly  down  into  the  centre  of 
the  reel  at  the  very  moment  when  Mr,  Bob  Sawyer 
was  performing  a  flourish  of  unparalleled  beauty.  Mr. 
Winkle  struck  v/ildly  against  him,  and  with  a  loud 
crash  they  both  fell  heavily  down.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran 
to  the  spot.  Bob  Sawyer  had  risen  to  his  feet,  but  Mn 
Winkle  was  far  too  wise  to  do  anything  of  the  kind  in 
skaits.  He  was  seated  on  the  ice,  making  spasmodic 
efforts  to  smile;  but  anguish  v/as  depicted  on  every  linea- 
ment of  his  countenance. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  with 
great  anxiety. 

"Not  much,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rubbing  his  back  very 
hard. 

"I  wish  you'd  let  me  bleed  you,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin, 
with  great  eagerness. 

"No,  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  hurriedly. 

"  I  really  think  you  had  better,"  said  Allen. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  "I'd  rather 
not." 

"What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick  ?"  inquired  Bob 
Sawyer. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  excited  and  indignant.  He  beckoned 
to  Mr.  Weller,  and  said,  in  a  stern  voice,  "  Take  his  skaits 
off." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


10 


^'No  ;  but  really  I  had  scarcely  begun/'  remonstrated 
Mr.  Winkle. 

''Take  his  skaits  off/'  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly. 

The  command  was  not  to  be  resisted.  Mr.  Winkle 
allowed  Sam  to  obey  it  in  silence. 

''Lift  him  up/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  Sam  assisted  him 
to  rise. 

Mr.  Pickwick  retired  a  few  paces  apart  from  the  by- 
standers; and,  beckoning  his  friend  to  approach,  fixed  a 
searching  look  upon  him,  and  uttered  in  a  low  but  dis- 
tinct and  emphatic  tone  these  remarkable  words : 

"You're  a  humbug,  sir." 

"•A  what?"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  starting. 

"  A  humbug,  sir.  I  will  speak  plainer  if  you  wish  it. 
An  impostor,  sir." 

With  these  words  Mr.  Pickwick  turned  slowly  on  his 
eel  and  rejoined  his  friends. 

While  Mr.  Pickwick  was  delivering  himself  of  the 
-iitiment  just  recorded,  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy, 
iving  by  their  joint  endeavors  cut  out  a  slide,  were  ex- 
V  rcising  themselves  thereupon  in  a  very  masterly  and 
brilliant  manner.  Sam  Weller,  in  particular,  was  dis- 
playing that  beautiful  feat  of  fancy-sliding  which  is 
currently  denominated  "  knocking  at  the  cobbler's  door," 
and  which  is  achieved  by  skimming  over  the  ice  on 
one  foot,  and  occasionally  giving  a  twopenny  postman's 
knock  upon  it  with  the  other.  It  was  a  good  long  slide 
and  there  was  something  in  the  motion  which  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, who  was  very  cold  with  standing  still,  could  not 
iielp  envying. 

''It  looks  a  nice  warm  exercise  that,  doesn't  it?"  he  in- 
jured of  Wardle,  when  that  gentleman  was  thoroughly 
out  of  breath  by  reason  of  the  indefatigable  manner  in 
which  he  had  converted  his  legs  into  a  pair  of  compasses, 
and  drawn  complicated  problems  on  the  ice. 

"Ah,  it  does,  indeed,"  replied  Wardle.  "Do  you 
slide?" 

"  I  used  to  do  so  on  the  gutters  when  I  was  a  boy," 

plied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Try  it  now,"  said  Wardle. 

"  Oh  do,  please,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  cried  all  the  ladies. 
"  I  should  be  very  happy  to  afford  you  any  amuse- 
ment," replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "but  I  haven't  done  such 
a  thing  these  thirty  years." 


20  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''Pooh!  pooli!  nonsense!"  said  Wardle,  dragging  off 
his  skaits  with  the  impetuosity  which  characterized  all 
his  proceedings.    ''Here;  Til  keep  you  company;  come 
along."    And  away  went  the  good-tempered  old  fellow 
down  the  slide  with  a  rapidity  which  came  very  close 
upon  Mr.  Weller,  and  beat  the  fat  boy  all  to  nothing. 
I    Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  considered,  pulled  off  his  gloves 
jand  put  them  in  his  hat;  took  two  or  three  short  runs: 
'  baulked  himself  as  often;  and  at  last  took  another  run, 
and  went  slowly  and  gravely  down  the  slide  with  his 
feet  about  a  yard  and  a  quarter  apart,  amidst  the  grati- 
fied shouts  of  all  the  spectators. 

"Keep  the  pot  a  bilin',  sir,"'said  Sam;  and  down  went 
Wardle  a.gain,  and  then  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Sam. 
and  then  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and 
then  the  fat  boy,  and  then  Mr.  Snodgrass,  following 
closely  upon  each  other's  heels,  and  running  after  each 
other  with  as  much  eagerness  as  if  all  their  future  pros- 
pects in  life  depended  on  their  expedition. 

It  was  the  most  intensely  interesting  thing  to  observe 
the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  performed  his  share 
in  the  ceremony;  to  watch  the  torture  of  anxiety  with 
which  he  viewed  the  person  behind,  gaining  upon  him  at 
the  imminent  hazard  of  tripping  him  up;  to  see  him 
gradually  expend  the  painful  force  which  he  had  put  on 
at  the  first,  and  turn  slowly  round  on  the  slide,  with  his 
face  towards  the  point  from  which  he  had  started ;  to 
contemplate  the  playful  smile  which  mantled  on  his  face 
when  he  had  accomplished  the  distance,  and  the  eager- 
ness with  which  he  turned  round  when  he  had  done  so, 
and  ran  after  his  predecessor;  his  black  gaiters  tripping 
{pleasantly  through  the  snow  and  his  eyes  beaming 
cheerfulness  and  gladness  through  his  spectacles.  And 
when  he  was  knocked  down  (which  happened  upon  the 
average  every  third  round),  it  was  the  most  invigorating 
sight  that  can  possibly  be  imagined  to  behold  him  gather 
up  his  hat,  gloves,  and  handkerchief,  with  a  glowing 
countenance,  and  resume  his  station  in  the  rank  with  an 
ardour  and  enthusiasm  that  nothing  could  abate. 

The  sport  was  at  its  height,  the  sliding  was  at  the 
quickest,  the  laughter  was  at  the  loudest,  when  a  sharp, 
smart  crack  was  heard.  There  was  a  quick  rush  to- 
wards the  bank,  a  wild  scream  from  the  ladies,  and  a 
shout  from  Mr.  Tupman.    A  large  mass  of  ice  disap- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


21 


peared;  the  water  bubbled  up  over  it;  Mr.  Pickwick's 
hat,  gloves  and  handkerchief  were  floating  on  the  sur- 
face; and  this  was  all  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that  anybody- 
could  see. 

Dismay  and  anguish  were  depicted  on  every  counte- 
nance; the  males  turned  pale,  and  the  females  fainted: 
Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  grasped  each  other  by 
*the  hand,  and  gazed  at  the  spot  where  their  leader  had 
gone  down,  with  frenzied  eagerness;  while  Mr.  Tupman, 
by  way  of  rendering  the  promptest  assistance,  and  at  the 
same  time  conveying  to  any  persons  who  might  be 
within  hearing  the  clearest  possible  notion  of  the  catas- 
trophe, ran  off  across  the  country  at  his  utmost  speed, 
screaming  '^Fire!"  with  all  his  might. 

It  was  at  this  very  moment,  when  old  Wardle  and 
Sam  Weller  were  approaching  the  hole  with  cautious 
steps,  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  was  holding  a  hurried 
consultation  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  on  the  advisability 
of  bleeding  the  company  generally,  as  an  improving  little 
bit  of  professional  practice — it  was  at  this  very  mo- 
ment that  a  face,  head,  and  shoulders  emerged  from 
beneath  the  water,  and  disclosed  the  features  and  spec- 
tacles of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^^Keep  yourself  up  for  an  instant — for  only  one  in- 
stant," bawled  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Yes,  do;  let  me  implore  you — for  my  sake,"  roared 
Mr.  Winkle,  deeply  affected.  The  adjuration  was  rather 
unnecessary;  the  probability  being,  that  if  Mr.  Pickwick 
had  declined  to  keep  himself  up  for  anybody  else's  sake, 
it  would  have  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  as  well  do 
so  for  his  own. 

Do  you  feel  the  bottom  there,  old  fellow?"  said  War- 
die. 

Yes,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  wringing  the 
water  from  his  head  and  face,  and  gasping  for  breath. 
''I  fell  upon  my  back.  I  couldn't  get  on  my  feet  at 
first." 

The  clay  upon  so  much  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  coat  as  was 
yet  visible,  bore  testimony  to  the  accuracy  of  his  state- 
ment; and  as  the  fears  or  the  spectators  were  still  fur- 
ther relieved  by  the  fat  boy  suddenly  recollecting  that 
the  water  was  nowhere  more  than  five  feet  deep,  prodi- 
gies of  valour  were  performed  to  get  him  out.  After  a 
vast  quantity  of  splashing,  and  cracking,  and  strug- 


22  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


gling,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  at  length  fairly  extricated 
from  his  unpleasant  position,  and  once  more  stood  on 
dry  land. 

"  Oh,  he'll  catch  his  death  of  cold/'  said  Emily. 

^^Dear  old  thing!"  said  Arabella.  Let  me  wrap  this 
shawl  round  you,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

''Ah,  that's  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Wardle; 
''and  when  you've  got  it  on,  run  home  as  fast  as  your 
legs  can  carry  you,  and  jump  into  bed  directly." 

A  dozen  shawls  were  offered  on  the  instant.  Three  or 
four  of  the  thickest  having  been  selected,  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  wrapped  up,  and  started  off  under  the  guidance  of 
Mr.  Weller,  presenting  the  singular  phenomenon  of  an 
elderly  gentleman,  dripping  wet,  and  without  a  hat, 
with  his  arms  bound  down  to  his  sides,  skimming  over 
the  ground,  without  any  clearly  defined  purpose,  at  the 
rate  of  six  good  English  miles  an  hour. 

But  Mr.  Pickwick  cared  not  for  appearances  in  such 
an  extreme  case,  and  urged  on  by  Sam  Weller,  he  kept 
at  the  very  top  of  his  speed  until  he  reached  the  door  of 
Manor  Farm,  where  Mr.  Tupman  had  arrived  some  five 
minutes  before,  and  had  frightened  the  old  lady  into- 
palpitations  of  the  heart,  by  impressing  her  with  the  un- 
alterable conviction  that  the  kitchen  chimney  was  on 
fire — a  calamity  which  always  presented  itself  in  glow- 
ing colours  to  the  old  lady's  mind  when  anybody  about 
her  evinced  the  smallest  agitation. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused  not  an  instant  until  he  was  snug 
in  bed.  Sam  Weller  lighted  a  blazing  fire  in  the  room 
and  took  up  his  dinner;  a  bowl  of  punch  was  carried  up 
afterwards,  and  a  grand  carouse  held  in  honour  of  his 
safety.  Old  Wardle  would  not  hear  of  his  rising,  so 
they  made  the  bed  the  chair,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  pre- 
sided. A  second  and  a  third  bowl  were  ordered  in;  and 
when  Mr.  Pickwick  awoke  next  morning  there  was  not 
a  symptom  of  rheumatism  about  him:  which  proves, 
as,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  very  justly  observed,  that  there  is 
nothing  like  hot  punch  in  such  cases :  and  that  if  ever 
hot  punch  did  fail  to  act  as  a  preventive,  it  was  because 
the  patient  fell  into  the  vulgar  error  of  not  taking 
enough  of  it. 

The  jovial  party  broke  up  next  morning.  Breakings 
up  are  capital  things  in  our  school  days,  but  in  after 
life  they  are  painful  enough.    Death,  self-interest,  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


23 


fortune's  changes  are  every  day  breaking  up  many  a 
happy  group,  and  scattering  them  far  and  wide;  and 
the  boys  and  girls  never  come  back  again.  We  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  it  was  exactly  the  case  in  this  particu- 
lar instance;  all  we  wish  to  inform  the  reader  is,  that 
the  different  members  of  the  party  dispersed  to  their 
several  homes;  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  once 
more  took  their  seats  on  the  top  of  the  Muggleton  coach; 
and  that  Arabella  Allen  repaired  to  her  place  of  destina- 
tion, wherever  it  might  have  been — we  dare  say  Mr. 
Winkle  knew,  but  we  confess  we  don't — under  the  care 
and  guardianship  of  her  brother  Benjamin,  and  his 
most  intimate  and  particular  friend,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

Before  they  separated,  however,  that  gentleman  and 
Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  drew  Mr.  Pickwick  aside  with  an 
air  of  some  mystery;  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  thrusting 
his  forefinger  between  two  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  ribs,  and 
thereby  displaying  his  native  drollery,  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  anatomy  of  the  human  frame,  at  one  and 
the  same  time,  inquired: 

"  I  say,  old  boy,  where  do  you  hang  out?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  that  he  was  at  present  suspended 
at  the  George  and  Vulture. 

"  I  wish  you'd  come  and  see  me,"  said  Bob  Sawyer. 
Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  There's  my  lodgings,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  produc- 
ing a  card,  '^Lant  Street,  Borough;  it's  near  Guy's,  and 
handy  for  me,  you  know.  Little  distance  after  you've 
passed  Saint  George's  Church — turns  out  of  the  High 
Street  on  the  right  hand  side  the  way." 

^ a  shall  find  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Come  on  Thursday  fortnight,  and  bring  the  other 
chaps  with  you  "  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer;    I'm  going  to 
have  a  few  medical  fellows  that  nigltit." 

Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  the  pleasure  it  would  afford 
him  to  meet  the  medical  fellows;  and  after  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  had  informed  him  that  he  meant  to  be  vcay 
cosey,  and  that  his  friend  Ben  was  to  be  one  of  the 
party,  they  shook  hands  and  separated. 

We  feel  that  in  this  place  we  lay  ourselves  open  to 
the  inquiry  whether  Mr.  Winkle  was  whispering,  dur- 
ing this  brief  conversation,  to  Arabella  Allen:  and  if  so, 
what  he  said;  and  furthermore,  whether  Mr.  Snodgrass 


24  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

was  conversing  apart  with  Emily  Wardle:  and  if  so, 
what  he  said.  To  this,  we  reply,  that  whatever  they 
might  have  said  to  the  ladies,  they  said  nothing  at  all 
to  Mr.  Pickwick  or  Mr.  Tupman  for  eight-and-twenty 
miles,  and  that  they  sighed  very  often,  refused  ale  and 
brandy,  and  looked  gloomy.  If  our  observant  lady 
readers  can  deduce  any  satisfactory  inferences  from 
these  facts  we  beg  them  by  all  means  to  do  so. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHICH  IS  ALL  ABOUT  THE  LAW,  AND  SUNDRY  GREAT  AU- 
THORITIES LEARNED  THEREIN. 

Scattered  about  in  various  holes  and  corners  of  the 
Temple  are  certain  dark  and  dirty  chambers,  in  and  out 
of  which,  all  the  morning  in  Vacation,  and  half  the 
evening  too  in  Term  time,  there  may  be  seen  constantly 
hurrying  with  bundles  of  papers  under  their  arms,  and 
protruding  from  their  pockets,  an  almost  uninterrupted 
succession  of  Lawyers'  Clerks.  There  are  several 
grades  of  Lawyers'  Clerks.  There  is  the  Articled  Clerk, 
who  has  paid  a  premium,  and  is  an  attorney  in  perspec- 
tive, who  runs  a  tailor's  bill,  receives  invitations  to  par- 
ties, knows  a  family  in  Gower  Street,  and  another  in  Tav- 
istock Square,  who  goes  out  of  town  every  Long  Vaca- 
tion to  see  his  father,  who  keeps  live  horses  innumerable; 
and  who  is,  in  short,  the  very  aristocrat  of  clerks.  There 
is  the  salaried  clerk — out  of  door,  or  in  door,  as  the  case 
may  be— who  devotes  the  major  part  of  his  thirty  shil- 
lings a  week  to  his  personal  pleasure  and  adornment, 
repairs  half-price  to  the  Adelphi  Theatre  at  least  three 
times  a  week,  dissipates  majestically  at  the  cider  cellars 
afterwards,  and  is  a  dirty  caricature  of  the  fashion 
which  expired  six  months  ago.  There  is  the  middle- 
aged  copying  clerk,  with  a  large  family,  who  is  always 
shabby,  and  often  drunk.  And  there  are  the  office  lads 
in  their  first  surtouts,  who  feel  a  befitting  contempt  for 
boys  at  day-schools:  club  as  they  go  home  at  night  for 
saveloys  and  porter:  and  think  there's  nothing  like 

life."    There  are  vaiicties  of  the  genus,  too  numerous 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


to  recapitulate,  but  however  numerous  they  may  be, 
they  are  all  to  be  seen  at  certain  regulated  business 
hours,  hurrying  to  and  from  the  places  we  have  just 
mentioned. 

TViese  sequestered  nooks  are  the  public  offices  of  the 
legal  profession,  where  writs  are  issued,  judgments 
.  .igned,  declarations  filed,  and  numerous  other  ingenious 
little  machines  put  in  motion  for  the  torture  and  tor- 
ment of  his  Majesty's  liege  subjects,  and  the  comfort 
and  emolument  of  the  practitioners  of  the  law.  They 
are,  for  the  most  part,  low-roofed,  mouldy  rooms,  where 
innumerable  rolls  of  parchment,  which  have  been  per- 
spiring in  secret  for  the  last  century,  send  forth  an 
agreeable  odour,  which  is  mingled  by  day  with  the  scent 
of  the  dry  rot,  and  by  night  with  the  various  exhalations 
which  arise  from  damp  cloaks,  festering  umbrellas,  and 
the  coarsest  tallow  candles. 

About  half -past  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  some  ten 
days  or  a  fortnight  after  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends 
returned  to  London,  there  hurried  into  one  of  these 
offices,  an  individual  in  brown  coat  and  brass  buttons, 
whose  long  hair  was  scrupulously  twisted  round  the 
rim  of  his  napless  hat,  and  whose  soiled  drab  trousers 
were  so  tightly  strapped  over  his  Blucher  boots,  that 
his  knees  threatened  every  moment  to  start  from  their 
concealment.  He  produced  from  his  coat  pockets  a 
long  and  narrow  strip  of  parchment,  on  which  the 
presiding  functionary  impressed  an  illegible  black 
stamp.  He  then  drew  forth  four  scraps  of  paper  of 
similar  dimensions,  each  containing  a  printed  copy  of 
the  strip  of  parchment,  with  blanks  for  a  name;  and 
having  filled  up  the  blanks,  put  all  the  five  documents 
in  his  pocket,  and  hurried  away. 

The  man  in  the  brown  coat,  with  the  cabalistic  docu- 
ments in  his  pocket,  was  no  other  than  our  old  acquaint- 
ance, Mr.  Jackson,  of  the  house  of  Dodson  and  Fogg, 
Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill.  Instead  of  returning  to  the 
office  from  whence  he  came,  however,  he  bent  his  steps 
direct  to  Sun  Court,  and  walking  straight  into  the  George 
and  Vulture,  demanded  to  know  whether  one  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  within. 

"  Call  Mr.  Pickwick's  servant,  Tom,"  said  the  barmaid 
of  the  George  and  Vulture. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Jackson/'  I've  come 


26.  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


on  business.  If  you'll  show  me  Mr.  Pickwick's  room, 
I'll  step  up  myself." 

What  name,  sir  ?  "  said  the  waiter. 
Jackson,"  replied  the  clerk. 
The  waiter  stepped  up  stairs  to  announce  Mr.  Jackson; 
but  Mr.  Jackson  saved  him  the  trouble  by  following 
close  at  his  heels,  and  walking  into  the  apartment  be- 
fore he  could  articulate  a  syllable. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had,  that  day,  invited  his  three  friends 
to  dinner;  they  were  all  seated  round  the  fire,  drinking 
their  wine,  when  Mr.  Jackson  presented  himself  as 
above  described. 

How  de  do,  sir  ?"  said  Mr.  Jackson,  nodding  to  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

That  gentleman  bowed,  and  looked  somewhat  sur- 
prised, for  the  physiognomy  of  Mr.  Jackson  dwelt  not 
in  his  recollection. 

"I  have  called  from  Dodson  and  Fogg's,"  said  Mr. 
Jackson,  in  an  explanatory  tone. 

Mr.  Pickwick  roused  at  the  name.  I  refer  you  to 
my  attorney,  sir:  Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  Inn,"  said  he. 

Waiter,  show  this  gentleman  out." 

''Beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Jackson, 
deliberately  depositing  his  hat  on  the  floor,  and  drawing 
from  his  pocket  the  strip  of  parchment.  ''But  personal 
service,  by  clerk  or  agent,  in  these  cases,  you  know,  Mr. 
Pickwick — nothing  like  caution,  sir,  in  all  legal  forms  ?  " 

Here  Mr.  Jackson  cast  his  eye  on  the  parchment:  and, 
resting  his  hands  on  the  table,  and  looking  round  with 
a  winning  and  persuasive  smile,  said,  "Now,  come; 
don't  let's  have  no  words  about  such  a  little  matter  as 
this.    Which  of  you  gentlemen's  name's  Snodgrass  ?" 

At  this  inquiry,  Mr.  Snodgrass  gave  such  a  very  un- 
disguised and  palpable  start,  that  no  further  reply  was 
needed. 

"Ah!  I  thought  so,"  said  Mr.  Jackson,  more  affably 
than  before.  "  I've  got  a  little  something  to  trouble  you 
with,  sir." 

•'  Me  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

•'It's  only  a  subpoena  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick  on  be- 
half of  the  plaintiff,"  replied  Jackson,  singling  out  one 
of  the  slips  of  paper,  and  producing  a  shilling  from  his 
waistcoat-pocket.  "  It'll  come  on  in  the  settens  after 
Term;  fourteenth  of  Febooary,  we  expect:  we've  marked 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


27 


it  a  special  jury  cause,  and  it's  only  ten  down  the  paper. 
That's  yours,  Mr.  Snodgrass."  As  Jackson  said  this,  he 
presented  the  parchment  before  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  and  slipped  the  paper  and  the  shilling  into  his 
hand. 

Mr.  Tupman  had  witnessed  this  process  in  silent  as- 
tonishment, when  Jackson,  turning  sharply  upon  him, 
said: 

''I  think  I  ain't  mistaken  when  I  say  your  name's 
Tupman,  am  I  ?" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick;  but,  perceiving- 
no  encouragement  in  that  gentleman's  widely-opened 
eyes  to  deny  his  name,  said: 

"  Yes,  my  name  is  Tupman,  sir." 

^'And  that  other  gentleman's  Mr.  Winkle,  I  think," 
said  Jackson. 

Mr.  Winkle  faltered  out  a  reply  in  the  affirmative; 
and  both  gentlemen  were  forthwith  invested  with  a  slip 
of  paper  and  a  shilling  each  by  the  dexterous  Mr.  Jack- 
son. 

'"  Now,"  said  Jackson,  "Vm  afraid  you'll  think  me 
rather  troublesome,  but  I  want  somebody  else,  if  it  ain't 
inconvenient.  I  have  Samuel  Weller's  name  here,  Mr. 
Pickwick." 

Send  my  servant  here,  waiter,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
The  waiter  retired,  considerably  astonished,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  motioned  Jackson  to  a  seat. 

There  was  a  painful  pause,  which  was  at  length  broken 
by  the  innocent  defendant. 

I  suppose,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  his  indignation 
rising  while  he  spoke;  I  suppose,  sir,  that  it  is  the  inten- 
tion of  your  employers  to  seek  to  criminate  me,  upon 
the  testimony  of  my  own  friends  ?  " 

Mr.  Jackson  struck  his  fore-finger  several  times 
against  the  left  side  of  his  nose,  to  intimate  that  he  was 
not  there  to  disclose  the  secrets  of  the  prison-house,  and 
playfully  rejoined, 

^'Not  knowin',  can't  say." 
For  what  other  reason,  sir,"  pursued  Mr.  Pickwick, 

are  these  subpoenas  served  upon  them,  if  not  for  this  ?" 

''Very  good  plant,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  replied  Jackson, 
slowly  shaking  his  head.  "  But  it  won't  do.  No  harm 
in  trying,  but  there's  little  to  bo  got  out  of  me." 

Here  Mr.  Jackson  smiled  once  more  upon  tlie  com- 


28 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


pany;  and,  applying  his  left  thumb  to  the  tip  of  his 
nose,  worked  a  visionary  coffee-mill  with  his  right 
hand:  thereby  performing  a  very  graceful  piece  of  pan- 
tomime (then  much  in  vogue,  but  now,  unhappily,  al- 
most obsolete)  which  was  familiarly  denominated  ''tak- 
ing a  grinder." 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Jackson,  in  conclusion; 
"  Perker's  people  must  guess  what  we've  served  these 
subpoenas  for.  If  they  can't,  they  must  wait  till  the 
action  comes  on,  and  then  they'll  find  out." 

Mr.  Pickwick  bestowed  a  look  of  excessive  disgust 
on  his  unwelcome  visitor,  and  would  probably  have 
hurled  some  tremendous  anathema  at  the  heads  of 
Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  had  not  Sam's  entrance  at 
the  instant  interrupted  him. 

"  Samuel  Weller,"  said  Mr.  Jackson,  inquiringly. 

"  Vun  o'  the  truest  things  as  you've  said  for  many 
a  long  year,  replied  Sam,  in  a  most  composed  man- 
ner. 

''Here's  a  subpoena  for  you,  Mr. Weller,"  said  Jack- 
son. 

"  What's  that  in  English  ?"  inquired  Sam. 
"  Here's  the  original,"  said  Jackson,  declining  the  re- 
quired explanation. 
"Which  ?"  said  Sam. 

"  This,"  replied  Jackson,  shaking  the  parchment. 

^'Oh,  that's  the  'rig'nal,  is  it  .^"  said  Sam.  '^  Well, 
Fm  worry  glad  I've  seen  the  'rig'nal,  'cos  it's  a  gratifyin' 
sort  o'  thing,  and  eases  vun's  mind  so  much." 

''And  here's  the  shilling,"  said  Jackson.  "  It's  from 
Dodson  and  Fogg's." 

"And  it's  uncommon  handsome  o'  Dodson  and  Fogg, 
as  knows  so  little  of  me,  to  come  down  with  a  present," 
said  Sam.  "  I  feel  it  is  a  worry  high  compliment,  sir; 
it's  a  worry  hon'rable  thing  to  them,  as  they  knows  how 
to  reward  merit  werever  they  meets  it.  Besides  wich, 
it's  affectin'  to  one's  feelin's." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this  he  inflicted  a  little  friction  on 
his  right  eye-lid,  with  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  after  the 
most  approved  manner  of  actors  when  they  are  in  do- 
mestic pathetics. 

Mr.  Jackson  seemed  rather  puzzled  by  Sam's  proceed- 
ings; but,  as  he  had  served  the  subpoenas,  and  had 
nothing  more  to  say,  he  made  a  feint  of  putting  on  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


29 


one  glove  which  he  usually  carried  in  his  hand,  for  the 
sake  of  appearances;  and  returned  to  the  office  to  report 
progress. 

Mr.  Pickwick  slept  little  that  night;  his  memory  had 
received  a  very  disagreeable  refresher  on  the  subject  of 
Mrs.  BardelFs  action.  He  breakfasted  betimes  next 
morning;  and,  desiring  Sam  to  accompany  him,  set 
forth  towards  Gray's  Inn  Square. 

"  Sam  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  when  they 
got  to  the  end  of  Cheapside. 

Sir  ?"  said  Sam,  stepping  up  to  his  master. 

Which  way?" 

Up  Newgate  Street." 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  turn  round  immediately,  but 
looked  vacantly  in  Sam's  face  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

'^  What's  the  matter,  sir?"  inquired  Sam. 

''This  action,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''is  expected 
to  come  on  on  the  fourteenth  of  next  mt)nth." 

"Remarkable  coincidence  that 'ere,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"Why  remarkable,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Walentine's  day,  sir,"  responded  Sam;  "  reg'lar 
good  day  for  a  breach  o'  promise  trial." 

Mr.  Weller's  smile  awakened  no  gleam  of  mirth  in  his 
master's  countenance.  Mr.  Pickwick  turned  abruptly 
round,  and  led  the  way  in  silence. 

They  had  walked  some  distance;  Mr.  Pickwick  trotting 
on  before,  plunged  in  profound  meditation,  and  Sam 
following  behind,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of.  the 
most  enviable  and  easy  defiance  of  everything  and 
everybody;  when  the  latter,  who  was  always  especially 
anxious  to  impart  to  his  master  any  exclusive  informa- 
tion he  possessed,  quickened  his  pace  until  he  was  close 
at  Mr.  Pickwick's  heels;  and  pointing  up  at  a  house  they 
were  passing,  said: 

"  Werry  nice  pork-shop  that  'ere,  sir." 

"Yes,  it  seems  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Celebrated  Sassage  factory,"  said  Sam. 

"Is  it?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Is  it!"  reiterated  Sam,  with  some  indignation;  "I 
should  rayther  think  it  was.  Why,  sir,  bless  your  in- 
nocent eyebrows,  that's  where  the  mysterious  disap- 
pearance of  a  'spectablo  tradesman  took  place,  four 
year  ago." 


30 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OB' 


You  don't  mean  to  say  he  was  burked,  Sam?"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  hastily  round. 

No,  I  don't  indeed,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  ^'I  wish 
I  did;  far  worse  than  that.  He  was  the  master  o'  that 
'ere  shop,  sir,  and  the  inwenter  o'  that  patent-never- 
leavin-off  sassage  steam  ingine,  as  ud  swaller  up  a 
pavin'  stone  if  you  put  it  too  near,  and  grind  it  into 
sassages  as  easy  as  if  it  was  a  tender  young  babby. 
Werry  proud  o'  that  machine  he  was,  as  it  was  natural 
he  should  be;  and  he'd  stand  down  in  the  celler  a  lookin' 
at  it,  wen  it  was  in  full  play,  till  he  got  quite  melan- 
choly with  joy.  A  werry  happy  man  he'd  ha'  been,  sir, 
in  the  procession  o'  that  'ere  ingine  and  two  more  lovely 
hinfants  besides,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  his  wife,  who  was 
a  most  ow-dacious  wixin.  She  was  always  a  foUerin' 
him  about,  and  dinnin'  in  his  ears,  'till  atlast  he  couldn't 
stand  it  no  longer.  '  I'll  tell  ybu  what  it  is,  my  dear,'  he 
says  one  day;  '  if  you  perse  were  in  this  here  sort  of 
amusement,'  he*  says,  ^I'm  blessed  if  I  don't  go  away  to 
'Merriker;  and  that's  all  about  it.'  '  You're  a  idle  willin,' 
says  she, '  and  I  wish  the  'Merrikins  joy  of  their  bargin.' 
Arter  wich  she  keeps  on  abusin'  of  him  for  half  an  hour, 
and  then  runs  into  the  little  parlour  behind  the  shop, 
sets  to  a  screamin',  says  he'll  be  the  death  on  her,  and  falls 
in  a  fit,  which  lasts  for  three  good  hours — one  o'  them  fits 
wich  is  all  screamin'  and  kickin'.  Well,  next  mornin', 
the  husband  was  missin'.  He  hadn't  taken  nothin'  from 
the  till — hadn't  even  put  on  his  great-coat — so  it  was 
quite  clear  he  warn't  gone  to  'Merriker.  Didn't  come 
back  next  day;  didn't  comeback  next  week;  Misses  had 
bills  printed,  sayin'  that  if  he'd  come  back  he  should 
be  forgiven  everythin'  (which  was  very  liberal,  seein' 
that  he  hadn't  done  nothin'  at  all),  all  the  canals  were 
dragged,  and  for  two  months  artervards  whenever  a 
body  turned  up,  it  was  carried,  as  areg'larthing,  straight 
off  to  the  sassage  shop.  Hows'ever  none  on  'em  an- 
swered, so  they  gave  out  that  he'd  run  away,  and  she 
kept  on  the  bus'ness.  One  Saturday  night,  a  little  thin 
old  gen'lm'n  comes  into  the  shop  in  a  great  passion  and 
says,  'Are  you  the  missis  o' this  'ere  shop?'  ^Yes,  I 
am,'  says  she.  'Well,  ma'am,'  says  he,  '  then  Pve  just 
looked  in  to  say,  that  me  and  my  family  ain't  a-goin'  to 
be  choaked  for  nothin':  and  more  than  that,  ma'am,'  he 
says,  '  you'll  allov/  me  to  observe,  that  as  you  don't  us^ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


31 


the  primest  parts  of  the  meat  in  the  manafacter  o'  sas- 
sages,  I  think  you'd  find  beef  come  nearly  as  cheap  as 
buttons.'  '  As  buttons,  sir! '  says  she.  '  Buttons, ma'am,' 
says  the  little  old  gentleman,  unfolding  a  bit  of  paper, 
and  she  win'  twenty  or  thirty  halves  o'  buttons.  '  Nice 
seasonin'  for  sassages  is  trousers'  buttons,  ma'am.' 
'They're  my  husband's  buttons!'  says  the  widder,  be- 
ginnin'  to  faint.  '  What ! '  screams  the  little  old  gen'lm'n, 
turnin'  worry  pale.  '  I  see  it  all,'  says  the  widder:  '  in  a 
fit  of  temporary  insanity  he  rashly  converted  his-self 
into  sassages!'  And  so  he  had,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
looking  steadily  into  Mr.  Pickwick's  horror-stricken 
countenance,  ^^or  else  he'd  been  draw'd  into  the  ingine; 
but  however  that  might  ha'  been,  the  little  old  gen'lm'n, 
who  had  been  remarkably  partial  to  sassages  all  his  life, 
rushed  out  o'  the  shop  in  a  wild  state,  and  was  never 
heerd  on  artervards!" 

The  relation  of  this  affecting  incident  of  private  life 
brought  master  and  man  to  Mr.  Perker's  chambers. 
Lowten,  holding  the  door  half  open,  was  in  conversa- 
tion with  a  rustily-clad,  miserable  looking  man,  in 
boots  without  toes,  and  gloves  without  fingers.  There 
were  traces  of  privation  and  suffering — almost  of  de- 
spair— in  his  lank  and  careworn  countenance;  he  felt  his 
poverty,  for  he  shrunk  to  the  dark  side  of  the  staircase 
as  Mr.  Pickwick  approached. 

^^It's  very  unfortunate,  "'said  the  stranger,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Very,"  said  Lowten,  scribbling  his  name  on  the  door 
post  with  his  pen  and  rubbing  it  out  again  with  the 
feather.       Will  you  leave  a  message  for  him? ' 

^^When  do  you  think  he'll  be  back?"  inquired  the 
stranger. 

"  Quite  uncertain,"  replied  Lowten,  winking  at  Mr. 
Pickwick,  as  the  stranger  cast  his  eyes  towards  the 
<>;round. 

You  don't  think  it  would  be  of  any  use  my  waiting  for 
him?"  said  the  stranger,  looking  wistfully  into  tiie  office. 

"  Oh.  no,  I'm  sure  it  wouldn't,"  replied  the  clerk,  mov- 
ing a  little  more  into  the  centre  of  the  doorway.  "  He's 
certain  not  to  be  back  this  week,  and  it's  a  chance 
whether  he  will  next;  for  when  Perker  once  gets  out  of 
town  he's  never  in  a  hurry  to  como  back  again." 

''Out  of  town!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "dearme,  howun- 
fortunate!" 


32  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Don't  go  away,  Mr.  Pickwick/'  said  Lowten,  '^Pve 
got  a  letter  for  you."  The  stranger  seeming  to  hesitate, 
once  more  looked  towards  the  ground,  and  the  clerk 
winked  slyly  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  if  to  intimate  that 
some  exquisite  piece  of  humour  was  going  forward; 
though  what  it  was,  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not,  for  the  life 
of  him,  divine. 

''Step  in,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Lowten.  ''Well,  will 
you  leave  a  message,  Mr.  Watty,  or  will  you  call 
again?" 

"Ask  him  to  be  so  kind  as  to  leave  out  word  what 
has  been  done  in  my  business,"  said  the  man;  "for  God's 
sake  don't  neglect  it,  Mr.  Lowten." 

"  No,  no;  I  won't  forget  it,"  replied  the  clerk.  "  Walk 
in,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Watty;  it'safijie 
day  for  walking,  isn't  it?"  Seeing  that  the  stranger  still 
lingered,  he  beckoned  Sam  Weller  to  follow  his  master 
in,  and  shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

"  There  never  was  such  a  pestering  bankrupt  as  that, 
since  the  world  began,  I  do  believe!"  said  Lowten,  throw- 
ing down  his  pen  with  the  air  of  an  injured  man.  "  His 
affairs  haven't  been  in  Chancery  quite  four  years  yet, 
and  I'm  d — d  if  he  don't  come  worrying  here  twice  a 
week.  Step  this  way,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Perker  is  in,  and 
he'll  see  you,  I  know.  Devilish  cold,"  he  added,  pettishly, 
"standing  at  that  dopr,  vvasting  one's  time  with  such 
seedy  vagabonds !"  Having  very  vehemently  stirred  a 
particularly  large  fire  with  a  particularly  small  poker, 
the  clerk  led  the  way  to  his  principal's  private  rooiji,  and 
announced  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  sir,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  bustling  up 
from  his  chair.  "  Well,  my  dear  sir,  and  what's  the  news 
about  your  matter — eh?  Anything  more  about  our  ^ 
friends  in  Freeman's  Court?  They've  not  been  sleeping, 
I  know  that.  Ah,  they're  very  smart  fellows — very 
smart,  indeed." 

As  the  little  man  concluded,  he  took  an  emphatic  pinch 
of  snuff,  as  a  tribute  to  the  smartness  of  Messrs.  Dodson 
and  Fogg. 

"  They  are  great  scoundrels,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Aye,  aye,"  said  the  little  man;  "that's  a  matter  of 
opinion,  you  know,  and  we  won't  dispute  about  terms; 
because,  of  course,  you  can't  be  expected  to  view  these 
subjects  with  a  professional  eye.  Well,  we've  done  every- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


33 


thing  that's  necessary.  I  have  retained  Serjeant 
Snubbin.'' 

''Is  he  a  good  man?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Good  man!"  replied  Perker;  "'bless  your  heart  and 
soul,  my  dear  sir,  Serjeant  Snubbin  is  at  the  very  top  of 
his  profession.  Gets  treble  the  business  of  any  man  in 
court— engaged  in  every  case.  You  needn't  mention  it 
abroad;  but  we  say — we  of  the  prof  ession — that  Serjeant 
Snubbin  leads  the  court  by  the  nose." 

The  little  man  took  another  pinch  of  snuff  as  he  made 
this  communication,  and  nodded  mysteriously  to  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''They  have  subpoena'd  my  three  friends,'^  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"Ah!  of  course  they  would,"  replied  Perker.  "Im- 
portant witnesses;  saw  you  in  a  delicate  situation." 

"But  she  fainted  of  her  own  accord,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick.   "  She  threw  herself  into  my  arms." 

"Very  likely,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Perker;  "very 
likely  and  very  natural.  Nothing  more  so,  my  dear  sir 
— nothing.    But  who's  to  prove  it?" 

"They  have  subpoena'd  my  servant  too,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  quitting  the  other  point;  for  there  Mr.  Perker's 
question  had  somewhat  staggered  him. 

"  Sam?"  said  Perker. 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"Of  course,  my  dear  sir;  of  course.  I  knew  they 
would  ;  I  could  have  told  you  that  a  month  ago.  You 
know,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  will  take  the  management  of 
your  affairs  into  your  own  hands  after  intrusting  them 
to  your  solicitor,  you  must  also  take  the  consequences." 
Here  Mr.  Perker  drew  himself  up  with  conscious  dignity, 
and  brushed  some  stray  grains  of  snuff  from  his  shirt 
frill. 

"And  what  do  they  want  him  to  prove?"  asked  Mr. 
Pickwick,  after  two  or  three  minutes'  silence. 

"  That  you  sent  him  up  to  the  plaintiff's  to  make  some 
offer  of  a  compromise,  I'suppose,"  replied  Perker.  "  It 
don't  matter  much,  though;  I  don't  think  many  couifsel 
could  get  a  great  deal  out  of  him.'' 

"I  don't  think  they  could,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
smiling,  despite  his  vexation  at  the  idea  of  Sam's  ap- 
pearance as  a  witness.    "What  course  do  we  pursue?" 

"  We  have  only  one  to  adopt,  my  dear  sir,"  replied 


34  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Perker; cross-examine  the  witnesses;  trust  to  Snubbin's 
eloquence;  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  judge;  and  our- 
selves on  the  jury.'' 

''And  suppose  the  verdict  is  against  me?"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

Mr.  Perker  smiled,  took  a  very  long  pinch  of  snuff, 
stirred  the  fire,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  remained 
expressively  silent. 

''You  mean  that  in  that  case  I  must  pay  the  dam- 
ages?" said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  watched  this  tele- 
graphic answer  with  considerable  sternness. 

Perker  gave  the  fire  another  very  unnecessary  poke, 
and  said,  "  I  am  afraid  so." 

"  Then  I  beg  to  announce  to  you,  my  unalterable  de- 
termination to  pay  no  damages  whatever,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  most  emphatically.  "  None,  Perker.  Not  a 
pound,  not  a  penny,  of  my  money,  shall  find  its  way  into 
the  pockets  of  Dodson  and  Fogg.  That  is  my  deliberate 
and  irrevocable  determination."  Mr.  Pickwick  gave  a 
heavy  blow  on  the  table  before  him,  in  confirmation  of 
of  the  irrevocability  of  his  intention. 

"Very  well,  my  dear  sir,  very  well,"  said  Perker. 
"  You  know  best,  of  course." 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily.  "Where 
does  Serjeant  Snubbin  live?" 

"  In  Lincoln's  Inn  Old  Square,"  replied  Perker. 

"I  should  like  to  see  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  See  Serjeant  Snubbin,  my  dear  sir!"  rejoined  Per- 
ker, in  utter  amazement.  "Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  sir, 
impossible.  See  Serjeant  Snubbin  !  Bless  you,  my  dear 
sir,  such  a  thing  was  never  heard  of,  without  a  consul- 
tation fee  being  previously  paid,  and  a  consultation 
fixed.  It  couldn't  be  done,  my  dear  sir;  it  couldn't  be 
done." 

*  Mr.  Pickwick,  however,  had  made  up  his  mind  not 
only  that  it  could  be  done,  but  that  it  should  be  done  ; 
and  the  consequence  was,  that  within  ten  minutes  after 
he  had  received  the  assurance  that  the  thing  was  im- 
po^ible,  he  was  conducted  by  his  solicitor  into  the  outer 
office  of  the  great  Serjeant  Snubbin  himself. 

It  was  an  uncarpeted  room  of  tolerable  dimensions, 
with  a  large  writing-table  drawn  up  near  the  fire  ;  the 
baize  top  of  which  had  long  since  lost  all  claim  to  its 
original  hue  of  green,  and  had  gradually  grown  grey 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


35 


with  dust  and  age,  except  where  all  traces  of  its  natural 
colour  were  obliterated  by  ink-stains.  Upon  the  table, 
were  numerous  little  bundles  of  papers  tied  with  red 
tape;  and  behind  it,  sat  an  elderly  clerk,  whose  sleek 
appearance,  and  heavy  gold  watch-chain,  presented  im- 
posing indications  of  the  extensive  and  lucrative  practice 
of  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin. 

"  Is  the  Serjeant  i*n  his  room,  Mr.  Mallard?"  inquired 
Perker,  offering  his  box  with  all  imaginable  courtesy. 

"  Yes,  he  is,"  was  the  reply,  ''but  he's  very  busy. 
Look  here,  not  an  opinion  given  yet,  on  any  one  ofthese 
cases:  and  an  expedition  fee  paid  with  all  of  'em:"  The 
clerk  smiled  as  he  said  this,  and  inhaled  the  pinch  of 
snuff  with  a  zest  which  seemed  to  be  compounded  of  a 
fondness  for  snuff  and  a  relish  for  fees. 

"  Something  like  practice,  that,"  said  Perker. 

'' Yes,"  said  the  barrister's  clerk,  producing  his  own 
box,  and  offering  it  with  the  greatest  cordiality  :  ''and 
the  best  of  it  is,  that  as  nobody  alive  except  myself  can 
read  the  Serjeant's  writing,  they  are  obliged  to  wait  for 
the  opinions,  when  he  has  given  them,  till  I  have  copied 
'em,  ha — ha  —ha  !  " 

"  Which  makes  good  for  we  know  who,  besides  the  Ser- 
jeant, and  draws  a  little  more  out  of  the  clients,  eh?" 
said  Perker  ;  "  ha,  ha,  ha  ! "  At  this  the  Serjeant's 
clerk  laughed  again — not  a  noisy,  boisterous  laugh,  but 
a  silent  internal  chuckle,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  disliked 
to  hear.  When  a  man  bleeds  inwardly,  it  is  a  dangerous 
thing  for  himself  ;  but  when  he  laughs  inwardly,  it  bodes 
no  good  to  other  people. 

You  haven't  macfe  me  out  that  little  list  of  the  fees 
that  I'm  in  your  debt,  have  you?"  said  Perker. 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  replied  the  clerk. 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Perker.  "Let  me  have 
them,  and  I'll  send  you  a  cheque.  But  I  suppose  you're 
too  busy  pocketing  the  readv  money,  to  tliink  of  tlie 
debtors,  eh?  ha,  ha,  ha!"  This  sally  seemed  to  tickle 
the  clerk  amazingly,  and  he  once  more  enjoyed  a  little 
quiet  laugh  to  himself. 

"But,  Mr.  Mallard,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Perker,  sud- 
denly recovering  his  gravity,  and  drawing  th(v  great 
man's  great  man  into  a  corner,  by  the  lappel  of  his  coat; 
"you  must  persuade  the  Serjeant  to  see  me,  and  my 
client  here." 


36  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^'  Come,  come/^  said  the  clerk,"  ^Hhat's  not  bad,  either. 
See  the  Serjeant!  come,  that's  too  absurd."  Notwith- 
standing the  absurdity  of  the  proposal,  however,  the 
clerk  allowed  himself  to  be  gently  drawn  beyond  the 
hearing  of  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  after  a  short  conversation 
conducted  in  whispers,  walked  softly  down  a  little  dark 
passage,  and  disappeared  into  the  legal  luminary's  sanc- 
tum: whence  he  shortly  returned  on  tiptoe,  and  informed 
Mr.  PerkerandMr.  Pickwick  that  the  Serjeant  had  been 
prevailed  upon,  in  violation  of  all  established  rules  and 
custo'ms,  to  admit  them  at  once. 

Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  was  a  lantern-faced,  sallow- 
complexioned  man,  of  about  flve-and-forty,  or — as  the 
novels  say — he  might  be  fifty.  He  had  that  dull-looking 
boiled  eye  which  is  so  often  to  be  seen  in  the  heads  of 
people  who  have  applied  themselves  during  many  years 
to  a  weary  and  laborious  course  of  study;  and  which 
would  have  been  sufficient,  without  the  additional  eye- 
glass which  dangled  from  a  broad  black  riband  round 
his  neck,  to  warn  a  stranger  that  he  was  very  near- 
sighted. His  hair  was  thin  and  weak,  which  was  partly 
attributable  to  his  having  never  devoted  much  time  to  its 
arrangement,  and  partly  to  his  having  worn  for  five-and- 
twenty  years  the  forensic  wig  which  hung  on  a  block 
beside  him.  The  marks  of  hair-powder  on  his  coat- 
collar,  and  the  ill- washed  and  worse-tied  white  necker- 
chief round  his  throat,  showed  that  he  had  not  found 
leisure  since  he  left  the  court  to  make  any  alteration  in 
his  dress;  while  the  slovenly  style  of  the  remainder  of 
his  costume  v/arranted  the  inference  that  his  personal 
appearance  would  not  have  been  very  much  improved 
if  he  had.  Books  of  practice,  heaps  of  papers,  and 
opened  letters,  were  scattered  over  the  table,  without 
any  attempt  at  order  or  arrangement;  the  furniture  of 
the  room  was  old  and  ricketty;  the  doors  of  the  book- 
case were  rotting  in  their  hinges;  the  dust  flew  out  from 
the  carpet  in  little  clouds  at  every  step;  the  blinds  were 
yellow  with  age  and  dirt;  and  the  state  of  everything  in 
the  room  showed,  with  a  clearness  not  to  be  mistaken, 
that  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  was  far  too  much  occupied 
with  ris  professional  pursuits  to  take  any  great  heed  or 
reecard  of  his  personal  comforts. 

The  Serjeant  was  writing  when  his  clients  entered; 
he  bowed  abstractedly  when  Mr.  Pickwick  was  intro- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUP. 


37 


duced  by  his  solicitor;  and  then,  motioning  them  to  a 
seat,  put  his  pen  carefully  in  the  inkstand,  nursed  his 
left  leg,  and  waited  to  be  spoken  to. 

Mr.  Pickwick  is  the  defendant  in  Bardell  and  Pick- 
wick, Serjeant  Snubbin,"  said  Perker. 

I  am  retained  in  that,  am  I? "  said  the  Serjeant. 
"  You  are,  sir,"  replied  Perker. 

The  Serjeant  nodded  his  head,  and  waited  for  some- 
thing else. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  was  anxious  to  call  upon  you,  Serjeant 
Snubbin,"  said  Perker,  ''to  state  to  you,  before  you  en- 
tered upon  the  case,  that  he  denies  there  being  any 
ground  or  pretence  whatever  for  the  action  against  hini; 
and  that  unless  he  came  into  court  with  clean  hands, 
and  without  the  most  conscientious  conviction  that  he 
was  right  in  resisting  the  plaintiff's  Remand,  he  would 
not  be  there  at  all.  I  believe  I  state  your  views  cor- 
rectly; do  I  not,  my  dear  sir?"  said  the  little  man,  turn- 
ing to  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Quite  so,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  unfolded  his  glasses,  raised  them 
to  his  eyes;  and,  after  looking  at  Mr.  Pickwick  for  a  few 
seconds  with  great  curiosity,  turned  to  Mr.  Perker,  and 
said,  smiling  slightly  as  he  spoke: 

"  Has  Mr.  Pickwick  a  strong  case?" 

The  attorney  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Do  you  purpose  calling  witnesses?'' 

''No." 

The  smile  on  the  Serjeant's  countenance  became  more 
defined;  he  rocked  his  leg  with  increased  violence;  and, 
throwing  himself  back  in  his  easy  chair,  coughed  du- 
biously. 

These  tokens  of  the  Serjeant's  presentments  on  the 
subject,  slight  as  they  were,  were  not  lost  on  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. He  settled  the  spectacles,  tlirough  which  he 
had  attentively  regarded  such  demonstrations  of  the 
barrister's  feeling  as  he  had  permitted  himself  to  exhibit, 
more  firmly  on  his  nose;  and  said,  with  great  energy, 
and  in  utter  disregard  of  all  Mr.  Perker's  admonitory 
winkings  and  frownings: 

"  My  wishing  to  wait  upon  yon  for  such  a  purpose  as 
this,  sir,  appears,  T  have  no  doubt,  to  a  gentleman  who 
sees  so  much  of  these  matters  as  you  must  necessarily 
do,  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance." 


38  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


The  Serjeant  tried  to  look  gravely  at  the  fire,  but  the 
smile  came  back  again. 

''Gentlemen  of  your  profession,  sir,"  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  ''see  the  worst  side  of  human  nature — all  its 
disputes,  all  its  ill-will  and  bad  blood  rise  up  before  you. 
You  know  from  your  experience  of  juries  (I  mean  no 
disparagement  to  you  or  them)  how  much  depends  upon 
effect:  and  you  are  apt  to  attribute  to  others  a  desire  to 
use,  for  purposes  of  deception  and  self-interest,  the  very 
instruments  which  you,  in  pure  honesty  and  honour  of 
purpose,  and  with  a  laudable  desire  to  do  your  utmost 
for  your  client,  know  the  temper  and  worth  of  so  well, 
from  constantly  employing  them  yourselves.  I  really 
believe  that  to  this  circumstance  may  be  attributed  the 
vulgar  but  very  general  notion  of  your  being,  as  a  body, 
suspicious,  distrustful,  and  over-cautious.  Conscious 
as  I  am,  sir,  of  the  disadvantage  of  making  such  a  dec- 
laration to  you,  under  such  circumstances,  I  have  come 
here,  because  I  wish  you  to  distinctly  understand,  as  my 
friend  Mr.  Perker  has  said,  that  I  am  innocent  of  the  false- 
hood laid  to  my  charge;  and,  although  I  am  very  well 
avv^are  of  the  inestimable  value  of  your  assistance,  sir,  I 
must  beg  to  add  that  unless  you  sincerely  believe  this,  I 
would  rather  be  deprived  of  the  aid  of  your  talents  than 
have  the  advantage  of  them." 

Long  before  the  close  of  this  address,  which  we  are 
l)ound  to  say  was  of  a  very  prosy  character  for  Mr. 
Pickwick,  the  Serjeant  had  relapsed  into  a  state  of  ab- 
straction. After  some  minutes,  however,  during  which 
he  had  re-assumed  his  pen,  he  appeared  to  be  again 
aware  of  the  presence  of  his  clients;  and,  raising  his 
head  from  the  paper,  said,  rather  snappishly: 

"  Who's  with  me  in  this  case?" 

"  Mr.  Phunky,  Serjeant  Snubbin,"  replied  the  attorney. 

"Phunky,  Phunky,"  said  the  Serjeant;  "I  never 
heard  the  name  before.  He  must  be  a  very  young 
man." 

"Yes,  he  is  a  very  young  man,"  replied  the  attorney. 
"  He  was  only  called  the  other  day.  Let  me  see — he  has 
not  been  at  the  Bar  eight  years  yet. " 

"Ah,  I  thought  not,"  said  the  Serjeant,  in  that  sort 
of  a  pitying  tone  in  which  ordinary  folks  would  speak 
of  a  very  helpless  little  child.  "  Mr,  Mallard,  send  round 
to  Mr,— Mr,— " 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  39 

^^Phunky's — Holborn  Court,  Gray's  Inn/'  interposed 
Perker  (Holborn  Court,  by  the  bye,  is  South  Square 
now) — ''Mr.  Phunky's  and  say  I  should  be  glad  if  he'd 
step  here  a  moment." 

Mr.  Mallard  departed  to  execute  his  commission;  and 
Serjeant  Snubbin  relapsed  into  abstraction  until  Mr. 
Phunky  himself  had  been  introduced. 

Although  an  infant  barrister,  he  was  a  full-grown 
man.  He  had  a  very  nervous  manner,  and  a  painful 
hesitation  in  his  speech;  it  did  not  appear  to  be  a  natural 
defect,  but  seemed  rather  the  result  of  timidity,  arising 
from  the  consciousness  of  being  ''kept  down"  by  want 
of  means,  or  interest,  or  connexion,  or  impudence,  as 
the  case  might  be.  He  was  overawed  by  the  Serjeant, 
and  profoundly  courteous  to  the  attorney. 

"I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before,  Mr. 
Phunky,"  said  Serjeant  Snubbin,  with  haughty  con- 
descension. 

Mr.  Phunky  bowed.  He  had  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing the  Serjeant,  and  of  envying  him,  too,  with  all  a 
poor  man's  envy,  for  eight  years  and  a  quarter. 

"  You  are  with  me  in  this  case,  I  understand?"  said 
the  Serjeant. 

If  Mr.  Phunky  had  been  a  rich  man,  he  would  have 
instantly  sent  for  his  clerk  to  remind  him;  if  he  had 
been  a  wise  one,  he  would  have  applied  his  fore-finger 
to  his  fore-head  and  endeavoured  to  recollect,  whether, 
in  the  multiplicity  of  his  engagements  he  had  undertaken 
this  one  or  not;  but  as  he  was  neither  rich  nor  wise  (in 
this  sense  at  all  events)  he  turned  red,  and  bowed. 

"Have  you  read  the  papers,  Mr.  Phunky?"  inquired 
the  Serjeant. 

Here,  again,  Mr.  Phunky  should  have  professed  to 
have  forgotten  all  about  the  merits  of  the  case;  but,  as 
he  had  read  such  papers  as  had  been  laid  before  him  in 
the  course  of  the  action,  and  had  thought  of  nothing 
else,  waking  or  sleeping,  throughout  the  two  months 
during  which  he  had  been  retained  as  Mr.  Serjeant 
Snubbin's  junior,  he  turned  a  deeper  red,  and  bowed 
again. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  Serjeant,  waving  his 
pen  in  the  direction  in  which  that  gentleman  was 
standing. 

Mr.  Phunky  bowed  to  Mr.  Pickwick  with  the  rever- 


40  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ence  which  a  first  client  must  ever  awaken;  and  again 
inclined  his  head  towards  his  leader. 

Perhaps  you  will  take  Mr.  Pickwick  away/'  said  the 
Serjeant,  ''and — and — and — hear  anything  Mr.  Pickwick 
may  wish  to  communicate.  We  shall  have  a  consulta- 
tion, of  course."  With  this  hint  that  he  had  been  inter- 
rupted quite  long  enough,  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin,  who 
had  been  gradually  growing  more  and  more  abstracted, 
applied  his  glass  to  his  eyes  for  an  instant,  bowed 
slightly  round,  and  was  once  more  deeply  immersed  in 
the  case  before  him:  which  arose  out  of  an  interminable 
lawsuit,  originating  in  the  act  of  an  individual,  de- 
ceased a  century  or  so  ago,  who  had  stopped  up  a  path- 
way leading  from  some  place  which  nobody  ever  came 
from,  to  some  other  place  which  nobody  ever  went  to. 

Mr.  Phunky  would  not  hear  of  passing  through  any 
door  until  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  solicitor  had  passed 
through  before  him,  so  it  was  some  time  before  they  got 
into  the  Square;  and  when  they  did  reach  it,  they  walked 
up  and  down,  and  held  a  long  conference,  the  result  of 
which  was,  that  it  was  a  very  difficult  matter  to  say  how 
the  verdict  would  go;  that  nobody  could  presume  to 
calculate  on  the  issue  of  an  action;  that  it  was  very 
lucky  they  had  prevented  the  other  party  from  getting 
Serjeant  Snubbin;  and  other  topics  of  doubt  and  conso- 
lation, common  in  such  a  position  of  affairs. 

Mr.  Weller  was  then  roused  by  his  master  from  a 
sweet  sleep  of  an  hour's  duration;  and,  bidding  adieu  to 
Lowten,  they  returned  to  the  city. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  41 


CHAPTER  IV. 


DESCRIBES,  FAR  MORE  FULLY  THAN  THE  COURT  NEWS- 
MAN EVER  DID,  A  bachelor's  PARTY,  GIVEN  BY  MR. 
BOB  SAWYER  AT  HIS  LODGINGS  IN  THE  BOROUGH. 

There  is  a  repose  about  Lant  Street,  in  the  Borough, 
which  sheds  a  gentle  melancholy  upon  the  soul.  There 
are  always  a  good  many  houses  to  let  in  the  street:  it  is 
a  bye-street,  too,  and  its  dullness  is  soothing.  A  house 
in  Lant  Street  would  not  come  within  the  denomination 
of  a  first-rate  residence,  in  the  strict  acceptation  of  the 
term;  but  it  is  a  most  desirable  spot  nevertheless.  If  a 
man  wished  to  abstract  himself  from  the  world;  to 're- 
move himself  from  within  the  reach  of  temptation;  to 
place  himself  beyond  the  possibility  of  any  inducement 
to  look  out  of  the  window;  he  should  by  all  means  go  to 
Lant  Street. 

In  this  happy  retreat  are  colonized  a  few  clear-starch- 
ers,  a  sprinkling  of  journeymen  bookbinders,  one  or  two 
prison  agents  for  the  Insolvent  Court,  several  small 
housekeepers  who  are  employed  in  the  Docks,  a  handful 
of  mantua-makers,  and  a  seasoning  of  jobbing  tailors. 
The  majority  of  the  inhabitants  either  direct  their  ener- 


themselves  to  the  healthful  and  invigorating  pursuit  of 
mangling.  The  chief  features  in  the  still  life  of  the 
street  are  green  shutters,  lodging-bills,  brass  door-plates, 
and  bell-handles;  the  principal  specimens  of  animated 
nature,  the  pot-boy,  the  muffin  youth,  and  the  baked- 
potato  man.  The  population  is  migratory,  usually  dis- 
appearing on  the  verge  of  quarter-day,  and  generally 
by  ni^ht.  His  Majesty's  revenues  are  seldom  collected 
in  this  happy  valley;  the  rents  are  dubious;  and  the 
water  communication  is  very  frequently  cut  off. 

Mr.  Bob  Sa  wyer  embellished  one  side  of  tlie  fire,  in  his 
first-floor  front,  early  on  the  evening  for  which  he  had 
invited  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  the  other. 
The  preparations  for  the  reception  of  visitors  appeared 
to  be  completed.  The  umbrellas  in  the  passage  had  been 
heaped  into  the  little  corner  outside  the  back-parlour 


furnished  apartments,  or  devote 


42  *       POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


door;  the  bonnet  and  shawl  of  the  landlady's  servant 
had  been  removed  from  the  bannisters;  there  were  not 
more  than  two  pairs  of  pattens  on  the  street-door  mat; 
and  a  kitchen  candle,  with  a  very  long  snuff,  burnt 
cheerfully  on  the  ledge  of  the  staircase  window.  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  had  himself  purchased  the  spirits  at  a  wine 
vaults  in  High  Street,  and  had  returned  home  preceding 
the  bearer  thereof,  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  their 
delivery  at  the  wrong  house.  The  punch  was  ready- 
made  in  a  red  pan  in  the  bed-room;  a  little  table,  cov- 
ered with  a  green  baize  cloth,  had  been  borrowed  from 
the  parlour  to  play  at  cards  on;  and  the  glasses  of  the 
establishment,  together  with  those  which  had  been  bor- 
rowed for  the  occasion  from  the  public-house,  were  all 
drawn  up  in  a  tray,  which  was  deposited  on  the  landing 
outside  the  door. 

Notwithstanding  the  highly  satisfactory  nature  of  all 
these  arrangements,  there  was  a  cloud  on  the  counte- 
nance of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  as  he  sat  by  the  fireside.  There 
was  a  sympathizing  expression,  too,  in  the  features  of 
Mr.  Ben  Allen,  as  he  gazed  intently  on  the  ^coals,  and  a 
tone  of  melancholy  in  his  voice,  as  he  said,  after  a  long 
silence: 

"  Well,  it  is  unlucky  she  should  have  taken  it  in  her 
head  to  turn  sour,  just  on  this  occasion.    She  might  at  • 
least  have  waited  till  to-morrow." 

That's  her  malevolence,''  returned  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer, 
vehemently.  "  She  says  that  if  I  can  afford  to  give  a 
party  I  ought  to  be  able  to  afford  to  pay  her  con- 
founded 'little  bill.'" 

How  long  has  it  been  running?"  inquired  Mr.  Ben 
Allen.  A  bill,  by  the  bye,  is  the  most  extraordinary 
locomotive  engine  that  the  genius  of  man  overproduced. 
It  would  keep  on  running  during  the  longest  lifetime, 
without  ever  once  stopping  of  its  own  accord. 

"  Only  a  quarter,  and  a  month  or  so,"  replied  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer. 

Ben  Allen  coughed  hopelessly,  and  directed  a  search- 
ing look  between  the  two  top  bars  of  the  stove. 

It'll  be  a  deuced  unpleasant  thing  if  she  takes  it  into 
her  head  to  let  out,  when  those  fellows  are  here,  won't 
it?  "  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen  at  length. 

''Horrible,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  ''horrible." 

A  low  tap  was  heard  at  the  room  door.    Mr.  Bob 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


43 


Sawyer  looked  expressively  at  his  friend,  and  bade  the 
tapper  come  in;  whereupon  a  dirty  slipshod  girl  in  black 
cotton  stockings,  who  might  have  passed  for  the 
neglected  daughter  of  a  superannuated  dustman  in  very 
reduced  circumstances,  thrust  in  her  head,  and  said: 

''Please,  Mr.  Sawyer,  Missis  Raddle  wants  to  speak 
to  you.^^ 

Before  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  could  return  any  answer,  the 
girl  suddenly  disappeared  with  a  jerk,  as  if  somebody 
had  given  her  a  violent  pull  behind;  this  mysterious 
exit  was  no  sooner  accomplished,^  than  there  was 
another  tap  at  the  door — a  smart  pointed  tap,  which 
seemed  to  say,  ''Here  lam,  and  in  I'm  coming." 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  glanced  at  his  friend  with  a  look 
of  abject  apprehension,  and  once  more  cried  "  Come 
in." 

The  permission  was  not  at  all  necessary,  for,  before 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  had  uttered  the  words,  a  little  fierce 
woman  bounced  into  the  room,  all  in  a  tremble  with 
passion,  and  pale  with  rage. 

"Now,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  the  little  fierce  woman, 
trying  to  appear  very  calm,  "if  you'll  have  the  kind- 
ness to  settle^  that  little  bill  of  mine  I'll  thank  you,  be- 
cause I've  got  my  rent  to  pay  this  afternoon,  and  my 
landlord's  a  waiting  below  now."  Here  the  little  woman 
rubbed  her  hands,  and  looked  steadily  over  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer's  head,  at  the  wall  behind  him. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  put  you  to  any  inconvenience, 
Mrs.  Raddle,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  deferentially,  but — " 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  any  inconvenience,"  replied  the  little 
woman,  with  a  shrill  titter.  "  I  didn't  want  it  particular 
before  to-day;  leastways,  as  it  has  to  go  to  my  landlord 
directly,  it  was  as  well  for  you  to  keep  it,  as  me.  You 
promised  me  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Sawyer,  and  every 
gentleman  as  has  ever  lived  here,  has  kept  his  word, 
sir,  as  of  course  anybody  as  calls  himself  a  gentleman 
does."  Mrs.  Raddle  tossed  her  head,  bit  her  lips,  rubbed 
her  hands  harder,  and  looked  at  the  wall  more  steadily 
than  ever.  It  was  plain  to  see,  as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  re- 
marked in  a  style  of  eastern  allegory  on  a  subsequent 
occasion,  that  she  was  "  getting  the  »team  up." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mrs.  Raddle,"  said  Bob  Sawyer, 
with  all  imaginable  humility,  "but  the  fact  is,  that  I 
have  been  disappointed  in  the  City  to-day."  Extra- 


44 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ordinary  place  that  city.  An  astonishing  number  of 
men  always  are  getting  disappointed  there. 

'•  Well,  Mr.  Sawyer/'  said  Mrs.  Paddle,  planting  her- 
self firmly  on  a  purple  cauliflower  in  the  Kidderminster 
carpet,  ''and  what's  that  to  me,  sir?" 

"  I — I — have  no  doubt,  Mrs.  Paddle,"  said  Bob  Sawyer, 
blinking  this  last  question,  "that  before  the  middle  of 
next  week  we  shall  be  able  to  set  ourselves  quite  square, 
and  go  on,  on  a  better  system,  afterwards." 

This  was  all  Mjs.  Raddle  wanted.  She  had  bustled 
up  to  the  apartment  of  the  unlucky  Bob  Sawyer,  so 
bent  upon  going  into  a  passion  that,  in  all  probability, 
payment  would  have  rather  disappointed  her  than  other- 
wise. She  wa.s  in  excellent  order  for  a  little  relaxation 
of  the  kind:  having  just  exchanged  a  few  introductory 
compliments  with  Mr.  R.  in  the  front  kitchen. 

"Do  you  suppose,  Mr.  Sav/yer,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle, 
elevating  her  voice  for  the  informa^tion  of  the  neigh- 
bours, "do  you  suppose  that  Pm  a-going  day  after  day 
to  let  a  fellar  occupy  my  lodgings  as  never  thinks  of 
paying  his  rent,  nor  even  the  very  money  laid  out  for 
the  fresh  butter  and  lump  sugar  that's  bought  for  his 
breakfast,  and  the  very  milk  that's  took  in  at  the  street 
door?  Do  you  suppose  a  hard-working  and  industrious 
woman  as  has  lived  in  this  street  for  twenty  years  (ten 
year  over  the  way,  and  nine  year  and  three  quarter  in 
this  very  house)  has  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  work  her- 
self to  death  after  a  parcel  of  lazy,  idle  fellars,  that  are 
always  smoking  and  drinking,  and  lounging,  when  they 
ought  to  be  glad  to  turn  their  hands  to  a^nything  that 
would  help  'em  to  pay  their  bills?   Do  you — " 

"My  good  soul/'  interposed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen, 
soothingly. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  keep  your  observashuns  to 
yourself,  sir,  I  beg,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  suddenly  arrest- 
ing the  rapid  torrent  of  her  speech,  and  addressing  the 
third  party  with  impressive  slowness  and  solemnity. 
"  I  am  not  aweer,  sir,  that  you  have  any  right  to  address 
your  conversation  to  me.  I  don't  think  I  let  these 
apartments  to  you,  sir." 

"No,  you  certainly  did  not,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"Very  good,  sir,"  responded  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  lofty 

Eoliteness.  "  Then  p'raps,  sir,  you'll  confine  yourself  to 
reaking  the  arms  and  legs  of  the  poor  people  in  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


45 


hospitals,  and  keep  yourself  to  yourself,  sir,  or  there  may 
be  some  persons  here  as  will  make  you,  sir." 

'"  But  you  are  such  an  unreasonable  woman,"  remon- 
strated Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

I  beg  your  parding,  young  man,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle, 
in  a  cold  perspiration  of  anger.  ^'But  will  you  have 
the  goodness  just  to  call  me  that  again,  sir?" 

' '  I  didn't  make  use  of  the  word  in  any  invidious  sense, 
ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  growing  somewhat 
uneasy  on  his  own  account. 

'^Ibeg  your  parding,  young  man,"  demanded  Mrs. 
Raddle,  in  a  louder  and  more  imperative  tone.  '^But 
who  do  you  call  a  woman?  Did  you  make  that  remark 
to  me,  sir?" 

''Why,  bless  my  heart!"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

''Did  you  apply  that  name  to  me,  I  ask  of  you,  sir  ?" 
interrupted  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  intense  fierceness,  throw- 
ing the  door  wide  open. 

"Why,  of  course  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"Yes,  of  course  you  did,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  backing 
gradually  to  the  door,  and  raising  her  voice  to  its  loudest 
pitch,  for  the  special  behoof  of  Mr.  Raddle  in  the  kitchen. 

"Yes,  of  course  you  did!  And  everybody  knows  that 
they  may  safely  insult  me  in  my  own  ousev/hile  my  hus- 
band sits  sleeping  down  stairs,  and  taking  no  more  notice 
than  if  I  was  a  dog  in  the  streets.  He  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself  (here  Mrs.  Raddle  sobbed)  to  allow 
his  wife  to  be  treated  in  this  way  by  a  parcel  of  young 
cutters  and  carvers  of  live  people's  bodies,  that  disgraces 
the  lodgings  (another  sob),  and  leaving  her  exposed  to 
all  manner  of  abuse;  a  base,  faint-hearted,  timorous 
wretch,  that's  afraid  to  come  up  stairs,  and  face  the 
ruffinly  creatures — that's  afraid — that's  afraid  to  come!" 
Mrs.  Raxidle  paused  to  listen  whether  the  repetition  of 
the  taunts  had  roused  her  better  half;  and,  finding  that 
it  had  not  been  successful,  proceeded  to  descend  the 
stairs  with  sobs  innumerable:  when  there  came  a  loud 
double  knock  at  the  street  door:  whereupon  she  burst 
into  an  hysterical  fit  of  weeping,  accompanied  with 
dismal  moans,  which  was  prolonged  until  the  knock  liad 
been  repeated  six  times,  when,  in  an  uncontrollable 
burst  of  mental  agony,  she  threw  down  all  tlie  umbrellas, 
and  disappeared  into  the  back  parlour,  closing  the  door 
after  her  with  an  awful  crash. 


46  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


'^Does  Mr.  Sawyer  live  here?^'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
when  the  door  was  opened. 

"  Yes/'  said  the  girl,  "  first  floor.  It's  the  door  straight 
afore- you,  when  you  gets  to  the  top  of  the  stairs."  Hav- 
ing given  this  instruction,  the  handmaid,  who  had  been 
brought  up  among  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  South- 
wark,  disappeared,  with  the  candle  in  her  hand,  do  wn 
the  kitchen  stairs:  perfectly  satisfied  that  she  had  done 
everything  that  could  possibly  be  required  of  her  under 
the  circumstances. 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  entered  last,  secured  the  street 
door,  after  several  ineffectual  efforts,  by  putting  up  the 
chain;  and  the  friends  stumbled  up  stairs,  where  they 
were  received  by  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  afraid 
to  go  down,  lest  he  should  be  waylaid  by  Mrs.  Raddle. 

How  are  you?"  said  the  discomfited  student — Glad 
to  see  you — take  ca,re  of  the  glasses."  This  caution 
was  addressed  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  put  his  hat  in 
the  tray. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  beg  your  pardon." 
Don't  mention  it,  don't  mention  it,  "  said  Mr.  Saw- 
yer. I'm  rather  confined  for  room  here,  but  you  must 
put  up  with  all  that,  when  you  come  to  see  a  young 
bachelor.  Walk  in.  You've  seen  this  gentleman  before, 
I  think?"  Mr.  Pickwick  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Benja- 
min Allen,  and  his  friends  followed  his  example.  They 
had  scarcely  taken  their  seats  when  there  was  another 
double  knock. 

I  hope  that's  Jack  Hopkins!"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

Hush.    Yes,  it  is.    Come  up.  Jack;  come  up." 

A  heavy  footstep  was  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and  Jack 
Hopkins  presented  himself.  He  wore  a  black  velvet 
waistcoat,  with  thunder  and  lightning  buttons;  and  a 
blue  striped  shirt,  with  a  white  false  collar. 

You're  late,  Jack?"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

'^Been  detained  at  Bartholomew's,"  replied  Hopkins. 

"  Anything  new?" 

''No,  nothing  particular.  Rather  a  good  accident 
brought  into  the  casualty  ward." 

''What  was  that,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Only  a  man  fallen  out  of  a  four  pair  of  stairs'  win- 
dow— but  it's  a  very  fair  case — very  fair  case  indeed." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  the  patient  is  in  a  fair  way  to  re- 
cover?" inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


47 


"No,"  replied  Hopkins,  carelessly.  ''N"o,  I  should 
rather  say  he  wouldn't.  There  must  be  a  splendid 
operation,  though,  to-morrow  —  magnificent  sight  if 
Slasher  does  it.  '' 

You  consider  Mr.  Slasher  a  good  operator?"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"Best  alive,''  replied  Hopkins.  "Took  a  boy's  leg  out 
of  the  socket  last  week — boy  ate  five  apples  and  a  gin- 
gerbread cake — exactly  two  minutes  after  it  was  all 
over;  boy  said  he  wouldn't  lie  there  to  be  made  game  of; 
and  he'd  tell  his  mother  if  they  didn't  begin." 

"Dear  me!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  astonished. 

"  Pooh!  that's  nothing,  that  ain't,"  said  Jack  Hopkins. 
"Is  it.  Bob?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  By  the  bye.  Bob,"  said  Hopkins,  with  scarcely  a  per- 
ceptible glance  at  Mr.  Pickwicks  attentive  face,  "we 
had  a  curious  accident  last  night.  A  child  was  brought 
in,  who  had  swallowed  a  necklace." 

"  Swallowed  what,  sir?"  interrupted  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"A  necklace,"  replied  Jack  Hopkins.  "Not  all  at 
once,  you  know,  that  would  be  too  much — you  couldn't 
swallow  that  if  the  child  did — eh,  Mr.  Pickwick,  ha! 
ha!"  Mr.  Hopkins  appeared  highly  gratified  with  his 
own  pleasantry;  and  continued — "No,  the  way  was 
this — child's  parents  were  poor  people  who  lived  in  a 
court.  Child's  eldest  sister  bought  a  necklace — common 
necklace,  made  of  large  black  wooden  beads.  Child 
being  fond  of  toys,  cribbed  the  necklace,  hid  it,  played 
with  it,  cut  the  string,  and  swallowed  a  bead.  Child 
thought  it  capital  fun,  went  back  next  day,  and  swal- 
lowed another  bead." 

"  Bless  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  \\  hat  a  dread- 
ful thing!    I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.    Go  on." 

"  Next  day,  child  swallowed  two  beads;  the  day  after 
that,  he  treated  himself  to  three,  and  so  on,  till  in  a 
week's  time  he  had  got  through  the  necklace — five-and- 
twenty  beads  in  all.  The  sister,  who  was  an  industrious 
girl,  and  seldom  treated  herself  to  a  bit  of  finery,  cried 
her  eyes  out,  at  the  loss  of  the  necklace;  looked  high 
and  low  for  it;  but,  I  needn't  say,  didn't  find  it.  A  few 
days  afterwards,  the  family  were  at  dinner — baked 
shoulder  of  mutton,  and  potatoes  under  it — the  child, 
who  wasn't  hungry,  was  playing  about  the  room,  when 


48   •  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


suddenly  there  was  heard  a  devil  of  a  noise,  like  a  small 
hail  storm.  '  Don't  do  that,  my  boy,'  said  the  father. 
'  I  aint  a  doin'  nothing,'  said  the  child.  '  Well,  don't  do 
it  again/  said  the  father.  There  was  a  short  silence, 
and  then  the  noise  began  again,  worse  than  ever.  '  If 
you  don't  mind  what  I  say,  my  boy,'  said  the  father, 
^y^ou'll  find  yourself  in  bed,  in  something  less  than  a 
pig's  whisper.'  He  gave  the  child  a  shake  to  make  him 
obedient,  and  such  a  rattling  ensued  as  nobody  ever 
heard  before.  '  Why,  damme,  it's  in  the  child!'  said  the 
father,  ^he's  got  the  croup  in  the  wrong  place!'  'N"o  I 
haven't,  father,  said  the  child,  beginning  to  cry,  '  it's  the 
necklace;  I  sv/allowed  it,  father.'  The  father  caught 
the  child  up,  and  ran  with  him  to  the  hospital:  the  beads 
in  the  boy's  stomach  rattling  all  the  way  with  the  jolt- 
ing; and  the  people  looking  up  in  the  air,  and  down  in 
the  cellars,  to  see  where  the  unusual  sound  came  from. 
He's  in  the  hospital  now,"  said  Jack  Hopkins,  and  he 
makes  such  a  devil  of  a  noise  when  he  walks  about, 
that  they're  obliged  to  muffle  him  in  a  watchman's  coat, 
for  fear  he  should  wake  the  patients !" 

'^That's  the  most  extraordinary  case  I  ever  heard  of,'^ 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  emphatic  blow  on  the  table. 
Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Jack  Hopkins;  '^isit,  Bob?'^ 

''Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

''Very  singular  things  occur  in  our  profession,  lean 
assure  you,  sir,"  said  Hopkins. 

"  So  I  should  be  disposed  to  imagine,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

Another  knock  at  the  door  announced  a  large-headed 
young  man  in  a  black  wig,  who  brought  with  him  a 
scorbutic  youth  in  a  long  stock.  The  next  comer  was  a 
gentleman  in  a  shirt  emblazoned  with  pink  anchors, 
who  was  closely  followed  by  a  pale  youth  with  a 
plated  watch-guard.  The  arrival  of  a  prim  personage 
in  clean  linen  and  cloth  boots  rendered  the  party  com- 
plete. The  little  table  with  the  green  baize  cover  was 
wheeled  out;  the  first  instalment  of  punch  was  brought 
in,  in  a  white  jug;  and  the  succeeding  three  hours  were 
devoted  to  vingt-et-un  at  sixpence  a  dozen,  which  was 
only  once  interrupted  by  a  slight  dispute  between  the 
scorbutic  youth  and  the  gentleman  with  the  pink 
anchors;  in  the  course  of  which  the  scorbutic  youth  in- 
timated a  burning  desire  to  pull  the  nose  of  the  gentle- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  49 


man  with  the  emblems  of  hope:  in  reply  to  which  that 
individual  expressed  his  decided  unwillingness  to  accept 
of  any  ''sauce"  on  gratuitous  terms, either  from  the 
irascible  young  gentleman  witii  the  scorbutic  counte- 
nance, or  any  other  person  who  was  ornamented  with  a 
head. 

When  the  last  ''natural"  had  been  declared  and  the 
profit  and  loss  account  of  fish  a.nd  sixpences  adjusted, 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  rang 
for  supper,  and  the  visitors  squeezed  themselves  into 
corners  while  it  was  getting  ready. 

It  was  not  so  easily  got  ready  as  some  people  may 
imagine.  First  of  all  it  was  necessary  to  av/aken  the 
girl,  who  had  fallen  asleep  with  her  face  on  the  kitchen 
table;  this  took  a  little  time,  and,  even  when  she  did  an- 
swer the  bell,  another  quarter  of  an  hour  was  consumed 
in  fruitless  endeavors  to  impart  to  her  a  faint  and  dis- 
tinct glimmering  of  reason.  The  man  to  whom  the 
order  for  the  oysters  had  been  sent,  had  not  been  told  to 
open  them;  it  is  a  very  difficult  thing  to  open  an  oj^ster 
with  a  limp  knife  or  a  two  pronged  fork;  and  very  little 
was  done  in  this  way.  Very  little  of  the  beef  was  done 
either;  and  tlie  ham  (which  was  also  from  the  Serman- 
sausage  shop  round  the  corner)  was  in  a  similar  predica- 
ment. However,  there  was  plenty  of  porter  in  a  tin 
can;  and  the  cheese  went  a  great  way,  for  it  was  very 
strong.  So  upon  the  whole,  perhaps,  the  supper  was 
quite  as  good  as  such  matters  usually  are. 

After  supper  another  jug  of  punch  was  put  upon  the 
table,  together  with  a  paper  of  cigars  and  a  couple  of 
bottles  of  spirits.  Then  there  was  an  awful  pause;  and 
this  awful  pause  was  occasioned  by  a  very  common  oc- 
currence in  this  sort  of  places,  but  a  very  embarrassing 
one  notwithstanding. 

The  fact  is,  tiie  girl  was  washing  the  glasses.  The 
establishment  boasted  four;  we  do  not  record  the  circum- 
stance as  at  all  derogatory  to  Mrs.  Raddle,  for  there  never 
was  a  lodging-house  yet  that  was  not  short  of  glasses. 
The  landlady's  glasses  were  little  thin-blown  glass 
tumblers,  and  those  which  had  been  borrowed  from  the 
public-house  were  great  dropsical,  bloated  articles,  each 
supported  on  a  huge  gouty  leg.  This  would  have  bf^en 
in  itself  sufficient  to  have  possessed  the  company  with 
the  real  state  of  affairs;  but  the  young  woman  of  all 


50 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


work  had  prevented  the  possibility  of  any  misconception 
arising  in  the  mind  of  any  gentleman  upon  the  subject 
by  forcibly  dragging  every  man's  glass  away  long  be- 
fore he  had  finished  his  beer,  and  audibly  stating,  des- 
pite the  winks  and  interruptions  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  that 
it  was  to  be  conveyed  down  stairs  and  washed  forthwith. 

It  is  a  very  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good.  The 
prim  man  in  the  cloth  boots,  who  had  been  unsuccess- 
fully attempting  to  make  a  joke  during  the  whole  time 
the  round  game  lasted,  saw  his  opportunity  and  availed 
himself  of  it.  The  instant  the  glasses  disappeared, 
he  commenced  a  long  story  about  a  great  public 
character,  whose  name  he  had  forgotten,  making  a  par- 
ticularly happy  reply  to  another  eminent  and  illustrious 
individual  whom  he  had  never  been  able  to  identify. 
He  enlarged  at  some  length  and  with  great  minuteness 
on  divers  collateral  circumstances  distantly  connected 
with  the  anecdote  in  hand,  but  for  the  life  of  him  he 
couldn't  recollect  at  that  precise  moment  what  the 
anecdote  was,  although  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
telling  the  story  with  great  applause  for  the  last  ten 
years. 

''Dear  me,"  said  the  prim  man  in  cloth  boots,  "  it  is 
a  very  extraordinary  circumstance.'' 

"  I  am  sorry  you  have  forgotten  it,"  said  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  glancing  eagerly  at  the  door,  as  he  thought  he 
heard  the  noise  of  glasses  jingling — ''very  sorry." 

"  So  am  I,"  responded  the  prim  man,  "  because  I  know 
it  would  have  afforded  so  much  amusement.  Never 
mind;  I  dare  say  I  shall  manage  to  recollect  it  in  the 
course  of  half  an  hour  or  so." 

The  prim  man  arrived  at  this  point  just  as  the  glasses 
came  back,  when  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  ab- 
sorbed in  attention  during  the  whole  time,  said  he 
should  very  much  like  to  hear  the  end  of  it,  for,  so  far 
as  it  went,  it  was,  without  exception,  the  very  best  story 
he  had  ever  heard. 

The  sight  of  the  tumblers  restored  Bob  Sawyer  to  a 
degree  of  equanimity  which  he  had  not  possessed  since 
his  interview  with  his  landlady.  His  face  brightened 
up,  and  he  began  to  feel  quite  convivial. 

"Now,  Betsey,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  great 
suavity,  and  dispersing,  at  the  same  time,  the  tumul- 
tuous little  mob  of  glasses  the  girl  had  collected  in  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


51 


centre  of  the  table;  ''now,  Betsey,  the  warm  water:  be 
brisk,  there's  a  good  girl." 

''  You  can't  have  no  warm  water,"  replied  Betsey. 

''  jSTo  warm  water  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 
No,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  which 
expressed  a  more  decided  negative  than  the  most  copious 
language  could  have  conveyed.  "  Missis  Raddle  said  you 
warn't  to  have  none." 

The  surprise  depicted  on  the  countenances  of  his 
guests  imparted  new  courage  to  the  host. 

•'Bring  up  the  warm  water  instantly — instantly!" 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  desperate  sternness. 

"No.    I  can't/'  replied  the  girl;  "  Missis  Raddle  raked 
out  the  kitchen  fire  afore  she  went  to  bed,  and  locked . 
up  the  kittle." 

"Oh,  never  mind;  never  mind.  Pray  don't  disturb 
yourself  about  such  a  trifle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ob- 
serving the  conflict  of  Bob  Sawyer's  passions,  as  de- 
picted in  his  countenance;  "  cold  water  will  do  very 
well." 

"Oh,  admirably,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"  My  landlady  is  subject  to  some  slight  attacks  of 
mental  derangement,"  remarked  Bob  Sawyer,  with  a 
ghastly  smile;  "  I  fear  I  must  give  her  warning." 

"  No,  don't,"  said  Ben  Allen. 

"  I  fear  I  must,"  said  Bob,  with  heroic  firmness.  "  I'll 
pay  her  what  I  owe  her,  and  give  her  warning  to-mor- 
row morning. "  Poor  fellow  !  how  devoutly  he  wished 
he  could  ! 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  heart-sickening  attempts  to  rally 
under  this  last  blow  communicated  a  dispiriting  influ- 
ence to  the  company,  the  greater  part  of  whom,  with 
the  view  of  raising  their  spirits,  attached  themselves 
witli  extra  cordiality  to  the  cold  brandy  and  water,  the 
first  perceptible  effects  of  which  were  displayed  in  a 
renewal  of  hostilities  between  the  scorbutic  youth  and 
the  gentleman  in  the  shirt.  The  belligerents  vented 
their  feeline:s  of  mutual  contempt,  for  some  time,  in  a 
variety  of  frownings  and  snortings,  until  at  last  tlie 
scorbutic  youth  felt  it  necessary  to  come  to  a  more  ex- 
plicit understanding  on  the  matter;  when  the  following 
clear  understanding  took  place. 

"  Sawyer,"  said  the  scorbutic  youth,  in  a  loud  voice. 

"  Well,  Noddy,"  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 


0/3 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''I  should  be  very  sorry,  Sawyer/'  said  Mr.  Nodddy, 
*^to  create  any  unpleasantness  at  any  friend's  table, 
and  much  less  at  yours,  Sawyer — very;  but  I  must  take 
this  opportunity  of  informing  Mr.  Gunter  that  he  is  no 
gentleman." 

"  And  I  should  be  very  sorry,  Sawyer,  to  create  any 
disturbance  in  the  street  in  which  you  reside,"  said  Mr. 
Gunter,  ''but  I'm  afraid  I  shall  be  under  the  necessity 
of  alarming  the  neighborhood  by  throwing  the  person 
who  has  just  spoken  out  'o  the  window." 

What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?"  inquired  Mr. Noddy. 
What  I  say,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  do  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Noddy. 

"  You  shall  feel  me  do  it  in  half  a  minute,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.  Gunter. 

"  I  request  that  you'll  favour  me  with  your  card,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Noddy. 

"  Fll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

"  Why  not,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Noddy. 

"  Because  you'll  stick  it  up  over  your  chimney-piece, 
and  delude  your  visitors  into  the  false  belief  that  a  gen- 
tleman has  been  to  see  you,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

"  Sir,  a  friend  of  mine  shall  wait  on  you  in  the  morn- 
ing," said  Mr.  Noddy. 

''Sir,  Pm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  caution, 
and  I'll  leave  particular  directions  with  the  servant  to 
lock  up  the  spoons,"  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

At  this  point  the  remainder  of  the  guests  interposed, 
and  remonstrated  with  both  parties  on  the  impropriety 
of  their  conduct;  on  which  Mr.  Noddy  begged  to  state 
that  his  father  was  quite  as  respectable  as  Mr.  Gunter's 
father;  to  which  Mr.  Gunter  replied  that  his  father  was 
to  the  full  as  respectable  as  Mr.  Noddy's  father,  and  that 
his  father's  son  was  as  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Noddy  any 
day  in  the  week.  As  this  announcement  seemed  the 
prelude  to  a  recommencement  of  the  dispute,  there  was 
another  interference  on  the  part  of  the  company:  and 
a  vast  quantity  of  talking  and  clamouring  ensued,  in 
the  course  of  which  Mr.  Noddy  gradually  allowed  his 
feelings  to  overpower  him,  and  professed  that  he  had 
ever  entertained  a  devoted  personal  attachment  towards 
Mr.  Gunter.  To  this,  Mr.  Gunter  replied  that,  upon  the 
whole,  he  rather  preferred  Mr.  Noddy  to  his  own  brother; 
on  hearing  which  admission,  Mr.  Noddy  magnanimously 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


53 


rose  from  his  seat,  and  proffered  his  hand  to  Mr.  Gunter. 
Mr.  Gunter  grasped  it  with  affecting  fervour  ;  and  every- 
body said  that  the  whole  dispute  had  been  conducted  in 
a  manner  which  was  highly  honourable  to  both  parties 
concerned. 

'^^Tow/'said  Jack  Hopkins,  ^^just  to  set  us  going 
again.  Bob,  I  don't  mind  singing  a  song."  And  Hopkins, 
incited  thereto  by  tumultuous  applause,  plunged  himself 
at  once  into  '  The  King,  God  bless  him,'  which  he  sang 
as  loud  as  he  could,  to  a  novel  air,  compounded  of  the 
'  Bay  of  Biscay,'  and  '  A  Frog  he  would/  The  chorus 
was  the  essence  of  the  song;  and,  as  each  gentleman 
sang  it  to  the  tune  he  knew  best^  the  effect  was  very 
striking  indeed. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  chorus  to  the  first  verse  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  held  up  his  hand  in  a  listening  attitude, 
and  said,  as  soon  as  silence  was  restored: 

Hush!  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  I  heard  some- 
body calling  from  up  stairs." 

A  profound  silence  immediately  ensued;  and  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  was  observed  to  turn  pale. 

''I  think  I  hear  it  nov/,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''Have 
the  goodness  to  open  the  door." 

The  door  was  no  sooner  opened  than  all  doubt  on  the 
subject  was  removed. 

'^Mr.  Sawyer!  Mr.  Sawyer!"  screamed  a  voice  from 
the  two-pair  landing. 

"  It's  my  landlad}^,"  said  Bob  Sawj^er,  looking  round 
him  with  great  dismay.    "  Yes,  Mrs.  Raddle." 

'*Wliat  do  you  mean  by  this,  Mr.  Sawyer?"  replied 
the  voice,  with  great  shrillness  and  rapidity  of  utterance. 

Ain't  it  enough  to  be  swindled  out  of  one's  rent,  and 
money  lent  out  of  pocket  besides,  and  abused  and  in- 
sulted by  your  friends  that  dares  to  call  themselves  men: 
without  having  the  house  turned  out  of  window,  and 
noise  enough  made  to  bring  tlie  fire-engines  here *at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning?    Turn  tliem  wretches  away." 

"'Yc^u  ouglit  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves,"  said  tlie 
voice  of  Mr.  Raddle,  which  appeared  to  proceed  from 
beneath  some  distant  bed-clotlios. 

"  Ashamed  of  themselves!"  said  Mrs.  Raddle.  "  Why 
don't  yoii  go  down  and  knock  'em  every  one  down  stairs? 
You  would  if  you  was  a  man." 

I  should  if  I  was  a  dozen  men,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr. 


54 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Raddle,  pacifically,  ''but  they Ve  the  advantage  of  me 
in  numbers,  my  dear." 

''Ugh,  you  coward!"  replied  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  su- 
preme contempt.  "  Do  you  mean  to  turn  them  wretches 
out  or  not,  Mr.  Sawyer?" 

"They're  going,  Mrs.  Raddle,  they're  going,"  said  the 
miserable  Bob.  "  I  am  afraid  you'd  better  go,"  said  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  to  his  friends.  "  I  thought  you  were  mak- 
ing too  much  noise." 

"It's  a  very  unfortunate  thing,"  said  the  prim  man. 
"Just  as  we  were  getting  so  comfortable,  too!"  The 
prim  man  was  just  beginning  to  have  a  dawning  recol- 
lection of  the  story  he  had  forgotten. 

"It's  hardly  to  be  borne,"  said  the  prim  man,  looking 
round.    "Hardly  to  be  borne,  is  it?" 

"  Not  to  be  endured,"  replied  Jack  Hopkins;  let's  have 
the  other  verse.  Bob;  come,  here  goes!" 

"No,  no.  Jack,  don't,"  interposed  Bob  Sawyer;  "it's  a 
capital  song,  but  I  am  afraid  we  had  better  not  have  the 
other  verse.  They  are  very  violent  people,  the  people  of 
the  house." 

"Shall  I  step  up  stairs  and  pitch  into  the  landlord?" 
inquired  Hopkins,  "or  keep  on  ringing  the  bell,  or  go 
and  groan  on  the  staircase?  You  may  command  me, 
Bob." 

"  I  am  very  much  indebted  to  you  for  your  friendship 
and  good  nature,  Hopkins,"  said  the  wretched  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer;  "  but  I  think  the  best  plan  to  avoid  any  further 
dispute  is  for  us  to  break  up  at  once." 

"Now,  Mr.  Sawyer!"  screamed  the  shrill  voice  of  Mrs. 
Raddle,  "are  them  brutes  going?" 

"They're  only  looking  for  their  hats,  Mrs.  Raddle," 
said  Bob;  "they're  going  directly." 

"Going!"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  thrusting  her  night-cap 
over  the  banisters  just  as  Mr.  Pickwick,  followed  by  Mr. 
Tupman,  emerged  from  the  sitting-room.  "  Going! 
What  did  they  ever  come  for?" 

"My  dear  mar'am,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Pickwick,  look- 
ing up. 

"Get  along  with  you,  you  old  wretch!"  replied  Mrs. 
Raddle,  hastily  withdrawing  the  night-cap.  "Old 
enough  to  be  his  grandfather,  you  villin!  You're  worse 
than  any  of  'em." 

Mr.  Pickwick  f our.d  it  in  vain  to  protest  his  inno- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


55 


cence,  so  hurried  down  stairs  into  the  street,  whither  he 
was  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass.  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  who  was  dismally  de- 
pressed with  spirits  and  agitation,  accompanied  them  as 
far  as  London  Bridge,  and  in  the  course  of  the  walk 
confided  to  Mr.  Winkle,  as  an  especially  eligible  person 
to  intrust  the  secret  to,  that  he  was  resolved  to  cut  the 
throat  of  any  gentleman  except  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  who 
should  aspire  to  the  affections  .of  his  sister  Arabella. 
Having  expressed  his  determination  to  perform  this 
painful  duty  of  a  brother  with  proper  firmness,  he  burst 
into  tears,  knocked  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  making 
the  best  of  his  way  back,  knocked  double  knocks  at  the 
door  of  the  Borough  Market,  and  took  short  naps  on  the 
steps  alternately,  until  daybreak,  under  the  firm  im- 
pression that  he  lived  there,  and  had  forgotten  the  key. 

The  visitors  having  all  departed,  in  compliance  with 
the  rather  pressing  request  of  Mrs.  Raddle,  the  luckless 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  left  alone,  to  meditate  on  the 
probable  events  of  the  morrow,  and  the  pleasures  of  the 
evening. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MR.  WELLER  THE  ELDER  DELIVERS  SOME  CRITICAL  SENTI- 
MENTS RESPECTING  LITERARY  COMPOSITION;  AND,  AS- 
SISTED BY  HIS  SON  SAMUEL,  PAYS  A  SMALL  INSTALMENT 
OF  RETALIATION  TO  THE  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  REVEREND 
GENTLEMAN  WITH  THE  RED  NOSE. 

The  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  February,  which  the 
readers  of  this  authentic  narrative  know,  as  well  as  we 
do,  to  have  been  the  day  immediately  preceding  that 
which  was  appointed  for  the  trial  of  Mrs.  BardelT's  ac- 
tion, was  a  busy  time  for  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  was 
perpetually  engaged  in  travelling  from  the  George  and 
Vulture  to  Mr.  Perker's  chambers  and  back  again,  from 
and  between  the  hours  of  nine  o'clock  in  tlie  morning 
and  two  in  the  afternoon,  both  inclusive.  Not  that  there 
was  anything  whatever  to  be  done,  for  the  consultation 
had  taken  place,  and  the  course  of  proceeding  to  be 
adopted  had  been  finally  determined  on;  but  Mr.  Pick- 
wick being  in  a  most  extreme  state  of  excitement,  per- 


56  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


severed  in  constantly  sending  small  notes  to  his  attor- 
ney, merely  containing  the  inquiry,  ^'Dear  Perker — Is 
all  going  on  well?"  to  which  Mr.  Perker  invariably  for- 
warded the  reply,  ''Dear  Pickwick — As  well  as  possible;" 
the  fact  being,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  that  there 
was  nothing  whatever  to  go  on,  either  well  or  ill,  mitil 
the  sitting  of  the  court  on  the  following  morning. 

But  people  who  go  voluntarily  to  law,  or  are  taken 
forcibly  there,  for  the  first  time,  may  be  allowed  to  la- 
bour under  some  temporary  irritation  and  anxiety;  and 
Sam,  with  a  due  allowance  for  the  frailties  of  human 
nature,  obeyed  all  his  master's  behests  with  that  imper- 
turbable good  humour  and  unruffable  composure  which 
formed  one  of  his  most  striking  and  amiable  character- 
istics. 

Sam  had  solaced  himself  with  a  most  agreeable  little 
dinner,  and  was  waiting  at  the  bar  for  the  glass  of  warm 
mixture  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  had  requested  him  to 
drown  the  fatigues  of  his  morning's  walks,  when  a 
young  boy  of  about  three  feet  high,  or  therealDouts,  in  a 
hairy  cap  and  fustian  overalls,  whose  garb  bespoke  a 
laudable  ambition  to  attain  in  time  the  elevation  of  an 
hostler,  entered  the  passage  of  the  George  and  Vulture, 
and  looked  first  up  the  stairs,  and  then  along  the  pas- 
sage, and  then  into  the  bar,  as  if  in  search  of  somebody 
to  whom  he  bore  a  commission;  whereupon  the  barmaid, 
conceiving  it  not  improbable  that  the  said  commission 
might  be  directed  to  the  tea  or  tablespoons  of  the  estab- 
lishment, accosted  the  boy  with: 

"  Nov/,-  young  man,  v/hat  do  you  want?" 

''Is  there  anybody  here  named  Sam?"  inquired  the 
youth,  in  a  loud  voice  of  treble  quality. 

"What's  the  t'other  name?"  said  Sam  Weller,  looking 
round. 

"How  should  I  know?"  briskly  replied  the  young  gen- 
tleman below  the  hairy  cap. 

"You're  a  sharp  boy,  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  "  only 
I  wouldn't  show  that  worry  fine  edge  too  much,  if  I. was 
you,  in  case  anybody  took  it  off.  What  do  you  mean 
by  comin'  to  a  hot-el,  and  asking  arter  Sam,  vith  as  much 
politeness  as  a  vild  Indian?" 

'"Cos  an  old  gen'lm'n  told  me  to,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  What  old  gen'lm'n?"  inquired  Sam,  with  deep  disdain. 

"  Him  as  drives  a  Ipswich  coach,  and  uses  our  par» 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


57 


I  ur,''  rejoined  the  boy.  ''He  told  me  yesterday  mornin' 
tv^  come  to  the  George  and  Wultur  this  arternoon,  and 
a^^k  for  Sam." 

"  It  s  my  father,  my  dear/'  said  Mr.  Weller,  turning 
with  an  explanatory  air  to  the  young  lady  in  the  bar; 
"  blessed  if  I  think  he  hardly  knows  what  my  other  name 
is.    Veil,  young  brockiley  sprout,  wot  then?" 

"  Why  then,"  said  the  boy,  you  wos  to  come  to  him 
at  six  o'clock  to  our  'ouse,  'cos  he  wants  to  see  you — Blue 
Boar,  Leaden'all  Markit.    Shall  I  say  you're  comin'?" 

''You  may  wentur  on  that  'ere  statement,  sir,"  replied 
Sam.  And  thus  empow^ered,  the  young  gentleman 
walked  away,  awakening  all  the  echoes  in  G  eorge  Yard 
as  he  did  so,  with  several  chaste  and  extremely  correct 
imitations  of  a  drover's  whistle,  delivered  in  a  tone  of 
peculiar  richness  and  volume. 

Mr.  Weller  having  obtained  leave  of  absence  from  Mr. 
Pickv/ick,  who,  in  his  then  state  of  excitement  and 
worry,  v/as  by  no  means  displeased  at  being  left  alone, 
set  forth,  long  before  the  appointed  hour,  and  having 
plenty  of  time  at  his  disposal,  sauntered  down  as  far  as 
the  Mansion  House,  w^here  he  paused  and  contemplated, 
with  a  face  of  great  calmness  and  philosophy,  the  num- 
erous cads  and  drivers  of  short  stages  who  assemble 
near  that  famous  place  of  resort,  to  the  great  terror  and 
confusion  of  the  old-lady  population  of  these  realms. 
Having  loitered  here  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  Mr.  Weller 
turned,  and  began  wending  his  way  towards  Leadenliall 
Market,  through  a  variety  of  bye  streets  and  courts.  As 
he  was  sauntering  away  his  spare  time,  and  stopped  to 
look  at  almost  every  object  that  met  his  gaze,  ft  is  by  no 
means  surprising  that  Mr.  Weller  should  have  paused 
before  a  small  stationer's  and  print-seller's  window;  but 
without  further  explanation  it  does  appear  surprising 
that  his  eyes  should  have  no  sooner  rested  on  certain 
pictures  which  were  exposed  for  sale  therein,  than  he 
gave  a  sudden  start,  smote  his  right  leg  with  great  vehe- 
mence, and  exclaimed  with  energy,  "If  it  hadn't  been 
for  this,  t  should  ha'  forgot  all  about  it,  till  it  was  too 
late!" 

The  particular  picture  on  which  Sam  Weller's  eyes 
were  fixed,  as  he  said  this,  was  a  highly  coloured  repre- 
sentation of  a  couple  of  human  hearts  skewered  together 
with  an  arrow,  cooking  before  a  cheerful  fire,  while  a 


58  '     POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


male  and  female  cannibal  in  modern  attire  :  the  gentle- 
man being  clad  in  a  blue  coat  and  white  trousers,  and 
the  lady  in  a  deep  red  pelisse  with  a  parasol  of  the  same: 
were  approaching  the  meal  with  hungry  eyes,  up  a  ser- 
pentine gravel  path  leading  thereunto.  A  decidedly 
indelicate  young  gentleman,  in  a  pair  of  wings,  and 
nothing  else,  was  depicted  as  superintending  the  cook- 
ing; a  representation  of  the  spire  of  the  church  in  Lang- 
ham  Place  appeared  in  the  distance ;  and  the  whole 
formed  a  '^valentine,"  of  which,  as  a  written  inscription 
in  the  window  testified,  there  was  a  large  assortment 
within,  which  the  shopkeeper  pledged  himself  to  dispose 
of,  to  his  countrymen  generally,  at  the  reduced  rate  of 
one  and  sixpence  each. 

I  should  ha'  forgot  it ;  I  should  certainly  ha'  forgot 
it  ! "  said  Sam.  So  saying,  he  at  once  stepped  into  the 
stationer's  shop,  and  requested  to  be  served  with  a  sheet 
of  the  best  gilt-edge  letter  paper,  and  a  hard  nibbed  pen 
which  could  be  warranted  not  to  splutter.  These  articles 
having  been  promptly  supplied,  he  walked  on  direct 
towards  Leadenhall  Market  at  a  good  round  pace,  very 
different  from  his  recent  lingering  one.  Looking  round 
him  he  there  beheld  a  sign-board  on  which  the  painter's 
art  had  delineated  something  remotely  resembling  a 
cerulean  elephant  with  an  aquiline  nose  in  lieu  of  trunk. 
Rightly  conjecturing  that  this  was  the  Blue  Boar  him- 
self, he  stepped  into  the  house  and  inquired  concerning 
his  parent. 

He  won't  be  here  this  three-quarters  of  an  hour  or 
more,"  said  the  young  lady  who  superintended  the  do- 
mestic arrangements  of  the  Blue  Boar. 

"  Werry  good,  my  dear,"  replied  Sam.  Let  me  have 
nine  penn'orth  o'  brandy  and  water  luke,  and  the  ink- 
stand, will  you,  miss  ?  " 

The  brandy  and  water  luke  and  the  inkstand  having 
been  carried  into  the  little  parlour,  and  the  young  lady 
having  carefully  flattened  down  the  coals  to  prevent 
their  blading,  and  carried  away  the  poker  to  preclude 
the  possibility  of  the  fire  being  stirred,  without  the  full 
privity  and  concurrence  T)f  the  Blue  Boar  being  first  had 
and  obtained,  Sam  Welle'r  sat  himseif  down  in  a  box 
near  the  stove,  and  pulled  out  the  sheet  of  gilt-edged 
letter-paper,  and  the  hard-nibbed  pen.  Then,  looking 
carefully  at  the  pen  to  see  that  there  were  no  hairs  in  it, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


59 


and  dusting  down  the  table,  so  that  there  might  be  no 
crumbs  of  bread  under  the  paper,  Sam  tucked  up  the 
cuffs  of  his  coat,  squared  his  elbows,  and  composed  him- 
self to  write. 

To  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of 
devoting  themselves  practically  to  the  science  of  pen- 
manship, writing  a  letter  is  no  very  easy  task  ;  it  being 
always  considered  necessary  in  such  cases  for  the  writer 
to  recline  his  head  on  his  left  arm,  so  as  to  place  his  eyes 
as  nearly  as  possible  on  a  level  with  the  paper,  and 
while  glancing  sideways  at  the  letters  he  is  construct- 
ing, to  form  with  his  tongue  imaginary  characters  to 
correspond.  These  motions,  although  unquestionably 
of  the  greatest  assistance  to  original  composition,  retard 
in  some  degree  the  progress  of  the  writer;  and  Sam  had 
unconsciously  been  a  full  hour  and  a  half  writing  words 
in  small  text,  smearing  out  wrong  letters  with  his  little 
finger,  and  putting  in  new  ones  which  required  going 
over  very  often  to  render  them  visible  through  the  old 
blots,  when  he  was  roused  by  the  opening  of  the  door  and 
the  entrance  of  his  parent. 

Veil,  Sammy,"  said  the  father. 

Veil,  my  Prooshan  Blue,"  responded  the  son,  laying 
down  his  pen.  What's  the  last  bulletin  about  mother- 
in-law  ?  " 

Mrs.  Veller  passed  a  worry  good  night,  but  is  uncom- 
mon perwerse  and  unpleasant  this  morning.  Signed 
upon  oath,  S.  Veller,  Esquire,  Senior.  That's  the  last 
vun  as  was  issued,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  unty- 
ing his  shawl. 

No  better  yet  ?"  inquired  Sam!  * 
All  the  symptoms  aggravated,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
shaking  his  head.    "  But  wot's  that  you're  a  doin'  of — 
pursuit  of  knowledge  under  difficulties— eh,  Sammy?" 
"^I've  done  now,"  said  Sam,  with  slight  embarrassment; 
I've  been  a  writin'." 
So  I  see,"  replied  Mr,  Weller.    ^'Not  to  any  young 
'ooman,  I  hope,  Sammy!" 

''Why,  it's  no  use  a  say  in'  it  ain't,"  replied  Sam.  It's 
a  walentine." 

A  what  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  apparently  horror- 
stricken  by  the  word. 

''A  walentine,"  replied  Sam. 

^^Samivel,  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  reproachful 


60 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


accents,  I  didn't  think  you'd  ha'  done  it.  Arter  the 
warnin'  you've  had  o'  your  father's  wicious  propensities  - 
arter  all  I've  said  to  you  upon  this  here  worry  subject ; 
arter  actiwally  seeing'  and  bein'  in  the  company  o'  your 
own  mother-in-law,  vich  I  should  ha'  thought  wos  a 
moral  lesson  as  no  man  could  never  ha'  forgotten  to  his 
dyin'  day  !  I  didn't  think  you'd  ha'  done  it,  Sammy,  I 
didn't  think  you'd  ha'  done  it  !  "  These  reflections  were 
too  much  for  the  good  old  man.  He  raised  Sam's  tumbler 
to  his  lips  and  drank  off  its  contents. 
Wot's  the  matter  now  ?  "  said  Sam. 
^^Nev'rmind,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  '4t'll  be 
a  worry  agonizin'  trial  to  me  at  my  time  of  life,  but  I'm 
pretty  tough,  that's  vun  consolation,  as  the  worry  old 
turkey  remarked  wen  the  farmer  said  he  was  afeerd 
he  should  be  obliged  to  kill  him  for  the  London 
market. 

Wot'll  be  a  trial  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  To  see  you  married,  Sammy — to  see  you  a  deluded 
wictim,  'and  thinkin'  in  your  innocence  that  it's  all  worry 
capital,"  replied  Mr,  Weller.  '^It's  a  dreadful  trial  to  a 
father's  feelin's,  that  'ere,  Sammy." 

"  Nonsense, 'J  said  Sam.  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  get  married, 
don't  fret  yourself  about  that  ;  I  know  you're  a  judge  o' 
these  things.  Order  in  your  pipe,  and  I'll  read  you  the 
letter — there." 

We  cannot  distinctly  sa,y  whether  it  was  the  prospect 
of  the  pipe,  or  the  consolatory  reflection  that  a  fatal  dis- 
position to  get  married  ran  in  the  family  and  couldn't 
be  helped,  which  calmed  Mr.  Weller's  feelings,  and 
caused  his  grief  to  subside.  We  should  be  rather  dis- 
posed to  say  that  the  result  was  attained  by  combining 
the  two  sources  of  consolation,  for  he  repeated  the 
second  in  a  low  tone  very  frequently,  ringing  the  bell 
meanwhile  to  order  in  the  first.  He  then  divested  him- 
self of  his  upper  coat,  and  lighting  the  pipe  and  placing 
himself  in  front  of  the  fire  with  his  back  towards  it,  so 
that  he  could  feel  its  full  heat  and  recline  against  the 
mantelpiece  at  the  same  time,  turned  towards  Sam,  and 
with  a  countenance -greatly  mollified  by  the  softening 
influence  of  tobacco,  requested  him  to  ^'fire  away." 

Sam  dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink  to  be  ready  for  any 
corrections,  and  began  with  a  very  theatrical  air  : 
^Lovely— '" 


THE  PICKWICK;  CLUB. 


61 


Stop,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  ringing  the  bell.  A  double 
glass  o'  the  invariable,  my  dear." 

''Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  girl,  who  with  great 
quickness  appeared,  vanished,  returned,  and  disap- 
peared. 

''They  seem  to  know  your  ways  here,"  observed  Sam. 
"Yes,"  replied  his  father,  "I've  been  here  before  in 
my  time.    Go  on,  Sammy." 

"  Lovely  creetur,"  repeated  Sam. 

"Taint  in  poetry,  is  it  ?"  interposed  his  father. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Werry  glacl  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Poetry's 
unnat'ral ;  no  man  ever  talked  poetry  'cept  a  beadle  on 
boxin'  day,  or  Warren's  blackin',  or  Rowland's  oil,  or 
some  o'  them  low  fellows  ;  never  you  let  yourself  down 
to  talk  poetry,  my  boy.    Begin  again,  Sammy." 

Mr.  Weller  resumed  his  pipe  with  critical  solemnity, 
and  Sam  once  more  commenced,  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  '  Lovely  creetur  i  feel  myself  a  dammed — '  " 

"  That  ain't  proper,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  taking  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth. 

"No,  it  ain't  'dammed,'"  observed  Sam,  holding  the 
letter  up  to  the  light,  "it's  'shamed' — there's  a  blot 
there — 'I  feel  myself  ashamed.'" 

"Werry  good,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "Goon." 

"  'Feel  myself  ashamed,  and  completely  cir — '  /for- 
get what  this  here  word  is,"  said  Sam,  scratching  his 
head  with  tlie  pen,  in  vain  attempts  to  remember. 

"Why  dont  you  look  at  it,  then?  "inquired  Mr. 
Weller. 

"So  I  am  a  lookin' at  it,"  replied  Sam,  "but  there's 
another  blot.    Here's  a  'c,'  and  a  'i,'  and  a  'd.'" 

'' Circumwented,  p'haps,"  suggested  Mr.  Weller. 

"No,  it  ain't  that,"  said  Sam;  "circumscribe;  that's 
it." 

"  That  ain't  as  good  a  word  as  circumwented,  Sammy," 
said  Mr.  Weller,  gravely. 

"Think  not?"  said  Sam. 

"Nothin'  like  it,  replied  his  father. 

"'  But  don't  you  think  it  means  more?"  inquired  Sam. 

"Veil,  p'haps  it  is  a  more  tenderer  word,"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  after  a  few  moments'  reflection.  '^"Go  on, 
Sammy." 

'*  *Feel  myself  ashamed  and    complo\:c]y  eircum- 


62  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


scribed  in  a  dressin'  of  you,  for  you  are  a  nice  gal  and 
nothin'  but  it."' 

That's  a  worry  pretty  sentiment/'  said  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller,  removing  his  pipe  to  make  way  for  the  remark. 

''Yes,  I  think  it  is  rayther  good/'  observed  Sam, 
highly  flattered. 

"  Wot  I  like  in  that  'ere  style  of  writin'/'  said  the  elder 
Mr.  Weller,  "  is  that  there  ain't  no  callin'  names  in  it 
— no  Wenuses,  nor  nothin  o'  that  kind.  Wot's  the 
good  o'  callin'  a  young  'ooman  a  Wenus  or  a  angel, 
Sammy?" 

''Ah!  what,  indeed?"  replied  Sam. 

"You  might  jist  as  well  call  her  a  griffin,  or  a  uni- 
corn, or  a  king's  arm  at  once,  which  is  worry  well  known 
to  be  a  collection  o'  fabulous  animals,"  added  Mr.  Weller. 

"Just  as  well,"  replied  Sam. 

"Drive  on,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  complied  with  the  request,  and  proceeded  as  fol- 
lows, his  father  continuing  to  smoke,  with  a  mixed  ex- 
pression of  wisdom  and  complacency,  which  was  parti- 
cularly edifying: 

"  'Afore  I  see  you  I  thought  all  women  was  alike.'" 

"So  they  are,"  observed  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  paren- 
thetically. 

"'But  now,'"  continued  Sam,  "'now  I  find  what  a 
reg'lar  soft-headed,  inkred'lous  turnip  I  must  ha'  been; 
for  there  ain't  nobody  like  you,  though  I  like  you  better 
than  nothin'  at  all.'  I  |ihought  it  best  to  make  that  rayther 
strong/'  said  Sam,  looking  up. 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  approvingly,  and  Sam  resumed. 

"  'So  I  take  jhe  privilidge  of  the  day,  Mary,  my  dear 
— as  the  gen'l'm'n  in  difficulties  did,  ven  he  valked  out  of 
a  Sunday — to  tell  you  that  the  first  and  only  time  I  see 
you,  your  likeness  was  took  on  my  heart  in  much 
quicker  time  and  brighter  colours  than  ever  a  likeness 
was  took  by  the  prof  eel  macheen  (wich  p'haps  you  may 
have  heerd  on,  Mary,  my  dear),  altho  it  does  finish  a 
portrait  and  put  the  frame  and  glass  on  complete  with 
a  hook  at  the  end  to  hang  it  up  by,  and  all  in  two  min- 
utes and  a  quarter.'" 

"lamafeerd  that  werges  on  the  poetical,  Sammy," 
said  Mr.  Weller,  dubiously. 

"No,  it  don't,"  replied  Sam,  reading  on  very  quickly, 
to  avoid  contesting  the  point — 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


63 


'''Except  of  me  Mary  my  dear  as  your  walentine 
and  think  over  what  I've  said. — My  dear  Mary  I  will 
now  conclude.'    That's  all,"  said  Sam. 

"  'That's  rayther  a  sudden  pull  up,  ain't  it,  Sammy?" 
inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"Not  a  bit  on  it,"  said  Sam:  "she'll  vish  there  wos 
more,  and  that's  the  great  art  o'  letter  writin'." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "there's  somethin'  in  that; 
and  I  wish  your  mother-in-law  'ud  only  conduct  her  con- 
wersation  on  the  same  gen-teel  principle.  Ain't  you  a 
going  to  sign  it?" 

"  That's  the  difficulty,"  said  Sam;  "  I  don't  know  what 
to  sign  it." 

"Sign  it  Veller,"  said  the  oldest  surviving  proprietor 
of  that  name. 

"Won't  do,"  said  Sam.  "JSTever  sign  a  walentine 
with  your  own  name." 

"Sign  it  'Pickwick,'  then,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  "it's  a 
werry  good  name,  and  a  easy  one  to  spell." 

"The  werry  thing,"  said  Sam.  "I  could  end  with  a 
werse;  what  do  you  think?" 

'•  I  don't  like  it,  Sam,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  "  I  never 
know'd  a  respectable  coachman  as  wrote  poetry,  'cept 
one,  as  made  an  affectin'  copy  o'  werses  the  right  afore 
he  was  hung  for  a  highway  robbery;  and  he  was  only  a 
Cambervell  man,  so  even  that's  no  rule." 

But  Sam  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  from  the  poetical 
idea  that  had  occurred  to  him,  so  he  signed  the  letter, 
"Your  love-sick 
Pickwick." 

And  having  folded  it,  in  a  very  intricate  manner, 
squeezed  a  down-hill  direction  in  one  corner:  "  To  Mary, 
Housemaid,  at  Mr.  Nupkins's  Mayor's,  Ipswich,  Suffolk;" 
and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  wafered,  and  ready  for  the 
General  Post.  This  important  business  havmg  been 
transacted,  Mr.  Weller,  the  elder,  proceeded  to  open  that 
on  which  he  had  summoned  his  son. 

"The  first  matter  relates  to  your  governor,  Sammy," 
said  Mr.  Weller.  "  He's  a  goin'  to  be  tried  to-morrow, 
ain't  he?" 

"  The  trial's  a  comin'  on,"  replied  Sam. 

"Veil,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "now  I  s'pose  he'll  want  to 
call  some  witnesses  to  speak  to  his  character,  or  p'raps 
to  prove  a  alleybi.    I've  been  a  turnin'  the  bis'ness  over 


64 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


in  my  mind,  and  he  may  make  liis-self  easy,  Sammy 
I've  got  some  friends  as'll  do  either  for  him,  but  my 
advice  'ud  be  this  here — never  mind  the  character, 
and  stick  to  the  alleybi.  Nothing  like  a  alleybi,  Sammy, 
nothing.''  Mr.  Weller  looked  very  profound  as  he  de- 
livered this  legal  opinion;  and  burying  his  nose  in  his 
tumbler,  winked  over  the  top  thereof,  at  his  astonished 
son. 

''Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  said  Sam;  ''you  don't 
think  he's  a  going  to  be  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey,  do  you?" 

"That  ain't  no  part  of  the  present  con-sideration, 
Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  Verever  he's  a  goin'  to 
be  tried,  my  boy,  a  alleybi's  the  thing  to  get  him  off. 
Ve  got  Tom  Vildspark  off  that  'ere  manslaughter,  with 
a  alleybi,  ven  all  the  big  vigs  to  a  man  said  as  nothing 
couldn't  save  him.  And  my  'pinion  is,  Sammy,  that  if 
your  governor  don't  prove  a  alleybi,  he'll  be  what  the 
Italians  call  reg'larly  flummoxed,  and  that's  all  about 
it." 

As  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  entertained  a  firm  and  unalter- 
able conviction  that  the  Old  Bailey  was  the  supreme 
court  of  judicature  in  this  country,  and  that  its  rules 
and  forms  of  proceeding  regulated  and  controlled  the 
practice  of  all  other  courts  of  justice  whatsoever,  he 
totally  disregarded  the  assurances  and  arguments  of  his 
son,  tending  to  show  that  the  alibi  was  inadmissible; 
and  vehemently  protested  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  being 
"  wictimized."  Finding  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  discuss 
the  matter  further,  Sam  changed  the  subject,  and  in- 
quired what  the  second  topic  was  on  which  his  revered 
parent  wished  to  consult  him. 

"That's  a  pint  o'  domestic  policy,  Sammy,"  said  Mr. 
Weller.    "  This  here  Stiggins — " 

"  Red-nosed  man?"  inquired  Sam. 

"Th.e  worry  same,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "This  here 
red-nosed  man,  Sammy,  wisits  your  mother-in-law,  vith 
a  kindness  and  constancy  as  I  never  see  equalled.  He's 
sitch  a  friend  o'  the  family,  Sammy,  that  wen  he's  avay 
from  us  he  can't  be  comfortable  unless  he  has  somethin' 
to  remember  us  by." 

"And  I'd  give  him  somethin' as 'ud  turpentine  and 
bees'-vax  his  memory  for  the  next  ten  years  or  so,  if  I 
wos  you,"  interposed  Sam. 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  "  I  wos  a  going  to 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


65 


say  he  always  brings  now  a  flat  bottle  as  holds  about  a 
pint  and  a-half ,  and  fills  it  with  pine-apple  rum  afore  he 
goes  avay." 

"  And  empties  it  afore  he  comes  back,  I  s'pose?''  said 
Sam. 

''CleanI"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  never  leaves  nothin' 
in  it  but  the  cork  and  the  smell;  trust  him  for  that, 
Sammy.  Now  these  here  fellowS;>  my  boy,  are  a  goin', 
to-night,  to  get  up  the  monthly  raeetin'  o'  the  Brick 
Lane  Branch  o'  the  United  Grand  Junction  Ebenezer 
Temperance  Association.  Your  mother-in-law  wos  a 
goin',  Sammy,  but  she's  got  the  rheumatics,  and  caii't; 
and  I,  Sammy — I've  got  the  two  tickets  as  wos  sent  her." 
Mr.  Weller  communicated  this  secret  with  great  glee, 
and  winked  so  indefatigably  after  doing  so,  that  Sam 
began  to  think  he  must  have  got  the  tic  doloureux  in  his 
right  eye-lid. 

''Well?"  said  that  young  gentleman. 

''Well,'!  continued  his  progenitor,  looking  .round  him 
very  cautiously,  "you  and  I'll  go,  punctiwaJ  to  the 
tiine.  The  deputy  shepherd  won't,  Sammy;  the  deputy 
shepherd  won't."  Here  Mr.  Weller  was  seized  with  a 
paroxysm  of  chuckles,  which  gradually  terminated  in  as 
near  an  approach  to  a  choke  as  an  elderly  gentleman 
can,  with  safety,  sustain. 

"Well,  I  never  see  sitch  an  old  ghost  in  all  my  borp 
days,"  exclaimed  Sam,  rubbing  the  old  gentleman'^^ 
back  hard  enough  to  set  him  on  fire  with  the  friction. 
"  What  are  you  laughin'  at,  corpilence?" 

"  Hush!  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  looking  round  him 
with  increased  caution  and  speaking  in  a  whisper.  "  Two 
friends  o'  mine,  as  works  the  Oxford  Road,  and  is  up  to 
all  kinds  o'  games,  has  got  the  deputy  shepherd  safe  in 
tow,  Sammy;  and  ven  he  does  come  to  the  Ebenezer 
Junction  (vich  he's  sure  to  do:  for  they'll  see  him  to  the 
door,  and  shove  him  in  if  necessary)  he'll  be  as  far  gone 
in  rum  and  water  as  ever  he  wos  at  the  Markis  o'  Gran- 
by,  Dorkin',  and  that's  not  sayin'  a  little  neither."  And 
with  this,  Mr.  Weller  once  more  laughed  immoderately, 
and  once  more  relapsed  into  a  state  of  partial  suffoca- 
tion, in  consequence. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  in  accordance  with 
Sam  Weller's  feelings,  than  the  projected  exposure  of 
the  real  propensities  and  qualities  of  the  red-nosed  man; 


66  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  it  being  very  near  the  appointed  hour  of  meeting, 
the  father  and  son  took  their  way  at  once  to  Brick  Lane: 
Sam  not  forgetting  to  drop  his  letter  into  a  general  post- 
office  as  they  walked  along. 

The  monthly  meetings  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch  of 
the  United  Grand  Junction  Ebenezer  Temperance  Asso- 
ciation were  held  in  a  large  room,  pleasantly  and  airily 
situated  at  the  top  of  a  safe  and  commodious  ladder. 
The  president  was  the  straight-walking  Mr.  Anthony 
Humm,  a  converted  fireman,  now  a  schoolmaster,  and 
occasionally  an  itinerant  preacher;  and  the  secretary 
w^s  Mr.  Jonas  Mudge,  chandler's  shop-keeper,  an  en- 
thusiastic and  disinterested  vessel,  who  sold  tea  to  the 
members.  Previous  to  the  commencement  of  business, 
the  ladies  sat  upon  forms,  and  drank  tea,  till  such  time 
as  they  con^iaered  it  expedient  to  leave  off  ;  and  a  large 
wooden  money-box  was  conspicuously  placed  upon  the 
green  baize  cloth  of  the  business  table,  behind  which 
the  secretary  stood,  and  acknowledged,  w^th  a  gracious 
smile,  every  addition  to  the  rich  vein  of  co{)per  which 
lay  concealed  within. 

On  this  particular  occasion  the  women  drank  tea  to  a 
most  alarming  extent;  greatly  to  the  horror  of  Mr.  Weller, 
senior,  who,  utterly  regardless  of  all  Sam's  admoni- 
tory nudgings,  stared  about  him  in  every  direction  with 
the  most  undisguised  astonishment. 

''Sammy,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  ''if  some  o'  these 
here  people  don't  want  tappin'  to-morrow  mornin'  I  ain't 
your  father,  and  that's  wot  it  is.  Why,  this  here  old 
lady  next  me  is  a  drowndin'  herself  in  tea." 

"  Be  quiet,  can't  you?  "  murmured  Sam. 

"Sam,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  a  moment  afterwards, 
in  a  tone  of  deep  agitation,  "mark  my  vords,  my  boy; 
if  that  'ere  secretary  feller  keeps  on  for  only  five  minutes 
more,  he'll  blow  himself  up  with  toast  and  water." 

"Well,  let  him,  if  he  likes,"  replied  Sam;  "it  ain't  no 
bis'ness  o'yourn." 

"If  this  here  lasts  much  longer,  Sammy,"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  in  the  same  low  voice,  "  I  shall  feel  it  my  duty,  as 
a  human  bein,'  to  rise  and  address  the  cheer.  There's  a 
young  'ooman  on  the  next  form  but  two,  as  has  drank 
nine  breakfast  cups  and  a  half;  and  she's  a  swellin' 
wisibly  before  my  werry  eyes." 

There  is  little  doubt  that  Mr.  Weller  would  have  car- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


67 


ried  his  benevolent  intention  into  immediate  execution, 
if  a  great  noise,  occasioned  by  putting  up  the  cups  and 
saucers,  had  not  very  fortunately  announced  that  the 
tea-drinking  was  over.  The  crockery  having  been  re- 
moved, the  table  with  the  green  baize  cover  was  carried 
out  into  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  the  business  of  the 
evening  was  commenced  by  a  little  emphatic  man,  with 
a  bald  head,  and  drab  shorts,  who  suddenly  rushed  up 
the  ladder,  at  the  imminent  peril  of  snapping  the  two 
little  legs  encased  in  the  drab  shorts,  and  said: 

^'Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  move  our  excellent  brother, 
Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  into  the  chair." 

The  ladies  waived  a  choice  collection  of  pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs at  this  proposition;  and  the  impetuous  little 
man  literally  moved  Mr.  Humm  into  the  chair,  by  taking 
him  by  the  shoulders  and  thrusting  him  into  a  mahogany 
frame  which  had  once  represented  that  article  of  furni- 
ture. The  waving  of  handkerchiefs  was  renewed;  and 
Mr.  Humm,  who  was  a  sleek,  white-faced  man,  in  a 
perpetual  perspiration,  bowed  meekly,  to  the  great  ad- 
miration of  the  females,  and  formally  took  his  seat. 
Silence  was  then  proclaimed  by  the  little  man  in  the 
drab  shorts,  and  Mr.  Humm  rose  and  said — That,  with 
the  permission  of  his  Brick  Lane  Branch  brothers  and 
sisters,  then  and  there  present,  the  secretary  would  read 
the  report  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch  committee;  a  propo- 
sition which  was  again  received  with  a  demonstration 
of  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

The  secretary  having  sneezed  in  a  very  impressive 
manner,  and  the  cough  which  always  seizes  an  assem- 
bly, when  anything  particular  is  to  be  done,  having  been 
duly  performed,  the  following  document  was  read: 

REPORT  OF  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  THE  BRICK  LANE  BRANCH 
.  OF  THE  UNITED  GRAND  JUNCTION  EBENEZER  TEMPER- 
ANCE ASSOCIATION. 

Your  committee  have  pursued  their  grateful  labours 
during  the  past  month,  and  have  the  unspeakable  pleas- 
ure of  reporting  the  following  additional  cases  of  con- 
verts to  Temperance: 

''H.  Walker,  tailor,  wife,  and  two  children.  When 
in  better  circumstances,  owns  to  having  been  ii\  the  con- 
stant habit  of  drinking  ale  and  beer;  says  he  is  not  cer- 


68 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


tain  whether  he  did  not  twice  a  week,  for  twenty  years^ 
taste  '  dog's  nose/  which  your  committee  find,  upon  in- 
quiry, to  be  compounded  of  warm  porter,  moist  sugar, 
gin,  and  nutmeg  (a  groan,  and  '  So  it  is ! '  from  an  elderly 
female).  Is  now  out  of  work  a.nd  pennyless;  thinks  it 
must  be  the  porter  (cheers)  or  the  loss  of  the  use  of  his 
right  hand;  is  not  certain  which,  but  thinks  it  very  likely 
that,  if  he  had  drank  nothing  but  water  all  his  life,  his 
fellow  workman  would  never  have  stuck  a  rusty  needle 
in  him,  and  thereby  occasioned  his  accident  ( tremen- 
dous cheering).  Has  nothing  but  cold  water  to  drink, 
and  never  feels  thirsty  (great  applause). 

"  Betsy  Martin,  widow,  one  child,  and  one  eye.  Goes 
out  charing  and  washing  by  the  day;  never  had  more 
than  one  eye,  but  knows  her  mother  drank  bottled  stout, 
and  shouldn't  wonder  if  that  caused  it  (immense  cheer- 
ing). Thinks  it  not  impossible  that  if  she  had  always 
abstained  from  spirits,  she  might  have  had  two  eyes  by 
this  time  (tremendous  applause).  Used,  at  every  place 
she  went  to,  to  have  eighteen  pence  a  day,  a  pint  of 
porter,  and  a  glass  of  spirits;  but  since  she  became  a 
member  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch,  has  always  de- 
manded three  and  sixpence  instead  (the  announcement 
of  this  most  interesting  fact  wa,s  received  with  deaf en- 
ing  enthusiasm). 

"  Plenry  Beller  was  for  man)^  years  toast-master  at 
various  corporation  dinners,  during  which  time  he 
drank  a  great  deal  of  foreign  wine;  may  sometimes 
have  carried  a  bottle  or  two  home  with  him;  is  not  quite 
certain  of  that,  but  is  sure  if  he  did,  that  he  drank  the 
contents.  Feels  very  low  and  melancholy,  is  very  feverish, 
and  has  a  constant  thirst  upon  him;  thinks  it  must 
be  the  wine  he  used  to  drink  (cheers).  Is  out  of  employ 
now;  and  never  touches  a  drop  of  foreign  wine  by  any 
chance  (tremendous  plaudits). 

"  Thomas  Burton  is  purveyor  of  cat's-meat  to  the 
Lord  Mayor  and  Sheriffs,  and  several  members  of  the 
Common  Council  (the  announcement  of  this  gentle- 
man's name  was  received  with  breathless  interest).  Has 
a  wooden  leg;  finds  a  wooden  leg  expensive,  going  over 
the  stones;  used  to  wear  second-hand  wooden  legs,  and 
drink  a  glass  of  hot  gin  and  water  regularly  every  night 
— sometimes  two  (deep  sighs).  Found  the  second-hand 
wooden  legs  split  and  rot  very  quickly;  is  firmly  per- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


69 


suaded  that  their  constitution  was  undermined  by  the 
gin  and  water  (prolonged  cheering).  Buys  new  wooden 
legs  now,  and  drinks  nothing  but  water  and  weak  tea. 
The  new  legs  last  twice  as  long  as  the  others  used  to  do, 
and  he  attributes  this  solely  to  his  temperate  habits 
(triumphant  cheers)." 

Anthony  Humm  now  moved  that  the  assembly  do  re- 
gale itself  with  a  song.  With  a  view  to  their  rational 
and  moral  enjoyment,  brother  Mordlin  had  adapted  the 
beautiful  words  of  Who  hasn't  heard  of  a  Jolly  Young 
Waterman?"  to  the  tune  of  the  Old  Hundredth,  which  he 
will  request  them  to  Join  him  in  singing  (great  applause). 
He  might  take  that  opportunity  of  expressing  his  firm 
persuasion  that  the  late  Mr.  Dibdin,  seeing  the  errors  of 
ais  former  life,  had  written  that  song  to  show  the  ad- 
vantages of  abstinence.  It  was  a  Temperance  song 
(v/hirlwinds  of  cheers).  The  neatness  of  the  interesting 
young  man's  attire,  the  dexterity  of  his  feathering,  the 
enviable  state  of  mind  which  enabled  him,  in  the 
'beautiful  words  of  the  poet,  to 

*'Eo\v  along,  thinking  of  nothing  at  all," 

all  combined  to  prove  that  he  must  have  been  a  water- 
drinker  (cheers).  Oh,  what  a  state  of  virtuous  jollit"  ' 
(rapturous  cheering).  And  what  was  the  young  man's 
reward?    Let  all  young  men  present  mark  this: 

**The  maidens  all  flock'd  to  his  boat  so  readiW." 

(Loud  cheers,  in  which  the  ladies  joined.)  What  a 
bright  example!  The  sisterhood,  the  maidens,  flocking 
round  the  young  waterman,  and  urging  him  along  the 
stream  of  duty  and  of  temperance.  But,  was  it  the 
maidens  of  humble  life  only,  who  soothed,  consoled,  and 
supported  him?  No! 

**  He  was  always  first  oars  with  the  fine  city  ladies. 

(Immense  cheering.)    The  soft  sex  to  a  man — he  begged 
pardon,  to  a  female — rallied  round  the  young  waterman, 
and  turned  with  disgust  from  the  drinker  of  spirits^  ^ 
(cheers).    The  Brick  Lane  Branch  brothers  were  water- ' 
men  (cheers  and  laughter).    That  room  was  their  boat; 


70  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


that  audience  were  the  maidens;  and  he  (Mr.  Anthony 
Humm),  however  unworthily,  was  ''first  oars"  (un- 
bounded applause). 

''Wot  does  he  mean  by  the  soft  sex,  Sammy?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller,  in  a  whisper. 

"  The  womin/'  said  Sam,  in  the  same  tone. 

"He  ain't  far  out  there,  Sammy/'  replied  Mr.  Weller; 
"they  must  be  a  soft  sex — a  werry  soft  sex,  indeed — if 
they  let  themselves  be  gammoned  by  such  fellers  as 
him." 

Any  further  observations  from*  the  indignant  old 
gentleman  were  cut  short  by  the  commencement  of  the 
song  which  Mr.  Anthony  Humm  gave  out,  two  lines  at 
a  time,  for  the  information  of  such  of  his  hearers  as  were 
unacquainted  with  the  legend.  While  it  was  being  sung 
the  little  man  with  the  drab  shorts  disappeared;  he  re- 
turned immediately  on  its  conclusion  and  whispered  to 
Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  with  a  face  of  the  deepest  import- 
ance. 

"  My  friends,"  said  Mr.  Humm,  holding  up  his  hand  in 
a  deprecatory  manner,  to  bespeak  the  silence  of  such  of 
the  stout  old  ladies  as  were  yet  a  line  or  two  behind; 
"  my  friends,  a  delegate  from  the  Dorking  branch  of  our 
society.  Brother  Stiggins,  attends  below." 

Out  came  the  pocket  handkerchiefs  again,  in  greater 
force  than  ever;  for  Mr.  Stiggins  was  excessively  popu- 
lar among  the  female  constituency  of  Brick  Lane. 

"He  may  approach,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Humm,  look- 
ing round  him,  with  a  fat  smile.  "  Brother  Tadger,  let 
him  come  forth  and  greet  us." 

The  little  man  in  the  drab  shorts,  who  answered  to  the 
name  of  Brother  Tadger,  bustled  down  the  ladder  with 
great  speed,  and  was  immediately  afterwards  heard 
tumbling  up  with  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins. 

"He's  a  comin',  Sammy,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller, 
purple  in  the  countenance  with  suppressed  laughter. 

"Don't  say  nothin'  to  me,"  replied  Sam,  "for  I  can't 
bear  it.  He 's  close  to  the  door.  I  hear  him  a  knockin' 
his  head  again'  the  lath  and  plaster  now." 

As  Sam  Weller  spoke  the  little  door  flew  open  and 
brother  Tadger  appeared,  closely  followed  by  the  rev- 
•  *erend  Mr.  Stiggins,  who  no  sooner  entered  tHan  there 
was  a  great  clapping  of  hands  and  stamping  of  feet  and 
flourishing  of  handkerchiefs;  to  all  of  which  manifesta- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  71 


tions  of  delight  Brother  Stiggins  returned  no  other  ac- 
knowledgment than  staring  with  a  wild  eye,  and  a  fixed 
smile,  at  the  extreme  top  of  the  wick  of  the  candle  on  the 
table;  swaying  his  body  to  and  fro  meanwhile  in  a  very 
unsteadj^  and  uncertain  manner. 

''Are  you  unwell,  Brother  Stiggins?"  whispered  Mr. 
Anthony  Humm. 

"  I  am  all  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  a  tone  in 
which  ferocity  was  blended  with  an  extreme  thickness  of 
utterance;  "  I  am  all  right,  sir." 

''Oh,  very  well,"  rejoined  Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  re- 
treating a  few  paces. 

"  I  believe  no  man  here  has  ventured  to  say  that  I  am 
not  all  right,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

"Oh,  certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Humm. 

"  I  should  advise  him  not  to,  sir;  I  should  advise  him 
not,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

By  this  time  the  audience  were  perfectly  silent,  and 
waited  with  some  anxiety  for  the  resumption  of 
business. 

"Will  you  address  the  meeting,  brother?"  said  Mr. 
Humm,  with  a  smile  of  invitation. 

"No,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Stiggins;  "no,  sir.  I  will  not, 
sir." 

The  meeting  looked  at  each  other  with  raised  eye-lids; 
and  a  murmur  of  astonishment  ran  through  the  room. 

"  It's  my  opinion,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  unbuttoning 
his  coat  and  speaking  very  loudly;  "it's  my  opinion,  sir, 
that  this  meeting  is  drunk,  sir.  Brother  Tadger,  sir!" 
said  Mr.  Stiggins,  suddenly  increasing  in  ferocity,  and 
turning  sharp  round  on  the  little  man  in  the  drab  shorts, 
"yoii  are  drunk,  sir!"  With  this  Mr.  Stiggins,  enter- 
taining a  praiseworthy  desire  to  promote  the  sobriety  of 
the  meeting,  and  to  exclude  therefrom  all  improper 
characters,  hit  brother  Tadger  on  the  summit  of  the  nose 
with  such  unerring  aim  that  the  drab  shorts  disappeared 
like  a  flash  of  lightning.  Brother  Tadger  had  been 
knocked,  head  first,  down  the  ladder. 

Upon  this  the  women  set  up  a  loud  and  dismal  scream- 
ing; and  rushing  in  small  parties  before  their  favourite 
brothers,  flung  tneir  arms  around  them  to  preserve  them 
from  danger — an  instance  of  affection  which  had  nearly 
proved  fatal  to  Humm,  who,  being  extremely  popular, 
was  all  but  suffocated  by  the  crowd  of  female  devotees 


78  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


that  hung  about  his  neck  and  heaped  caresses  upon  him. 
The  greater  part  of  the  lights  were  quickly  put  out,  and 
nothing  but  noise  and  confusion  resounded  on  all  sides. 

Now,  Sammy/'  said  Mr.  Weller,  taking  off  his  great 
coat  with  much  deliberation,  ''just  you  step  out,  and 
fetch  in  a  watchman." 

^'  And  wot  are  you  a  goin'  to  do  the  while  inquired 
Sam. 

''JSTever  you  mind  me,  Sammy,''  replied  the  old  gen- 
tleman; ''I  shall  ockipy  myself  in  havin'  a  small  settle- 
ment with  that 'ere  Stiggins."  Before  Sam  could  inter- 
fere to  prevent  it,  his  heroic  parent  had  penetrated  into 
a  remote  corner  of  the  room,  and  attacked  the  reverend 
Mr.  Stiggins  with  manual  dexterity. 

^'  Come  off  !  "  said  Sam. 

^'Come  on!"  cried  Mr.  Weller;  and  without  further 
invitation  he  gave  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  a  pre- 
liminary tap  on  the  head,  and  began  dancing  round  him 
in  a  buoyant  and  cork-like  manner,  which  in  a  gentle- 
man at  his  time  of  life  was  a  perfect  marvel  to  behold. 

Finding  all  remonstrances  unavailing,  Sam  pulled  his 
hat  firmly  on,  threw  his  father's  coat  over  his  arm,  and 
taking  the  old  man  round  the  waist,  forcibly  dragged 
him  down  the  ladder,  and  into  the  street;  never  releas- 
ing his  hold,  or  permitting  him  to  stop  until  they  reached 
the  corner.  As  they  gained  it,  they  could  hear  the 
shouts  of  the  populace,  who  were  witnessing  the  re- 
moval of  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  to  strong  lodgings 
for  the  night:  and  could  hear  the  noise  occasioned  by 
the  dispersion  in  various  directions  of  the  Members  of 
the  Brick  Lane  Branch  of  the  United  Grand  Junction 
Ebenezer  Temperance  Association. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


73 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IS  WHOLLY  DEVOTED    TO  A  FULL  AND  FAITHFUL 
REPORT  OF  THE  MEMORABLE  TRIAL  OF  BARDELL 
AGAINST  PICKWICK. 

I  WONDER  what  the  foreman  of  the  jury,  whoever  he 
will  be,  has  got  for  breakfast,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  by 
the  way  of  keeping  up  a  conversation  on  the  eventful 
morning  of  the  fourteenth  of  February. 

''Ah  !  "  said  Perker,  "  I  hope  he  has  got  a  good  one." 
Why  so  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Highly  important;  very  important,  my  dear  sir," 
replied  Perker.  ''  A  good,  contented,  well-breakfasted 
juryman  is  a  capital  thing  to  get  hold  of.  Discon- 
tented or  hungry  juryman,  my  dear  sir,  always  find  for 
the  plaintiff." 

''Bless  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  very 
blank;  "what  do  they  do  that  for  ?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  little  man,  coolly; 
"saves  time,  I  suppose.  If  it  's  near  dinner  time,  the 
foreman  takes  out  his  watch  when  the  jury  have  retired, 
and  says,  '  Dear  me,  gentlemen,  ten  minutes  to  five,  I 
declare  !  I  dine  at  five,  gentlemen,'  'So  do  I,'  says  every 
body  else,  except  two  men  who  ought  to  have  dined  at 
three,  and  seem  more  than  half  disposed  to  stand  out  in 
♦  consequence.  The  foreman  smiles,  and  puts  up  his 
watch: — '  Well,  gentlemen,  what  do  we  say  ?  plaintiff  or 
defendent,  gentlemen  ?  1  rather  think,  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  gentlemen, — I  say,  I  rather  think — but  don't 
let  that  influence  you — I  rather  think  the  plaintiff's  the 
man.'  Upon  this  two  or  three  other  men  are  sure  to  say 
that  they  think  so  too — as  of  course  they  do;  and  then 
they  get  on  very  unanimously  and  comfortably.  Ten 
minutes  past  nine!"  said  the  little  man,  looking  at  his 
watch.    "Time  we  were  off,  my  dear  sir;  breach  of 

Eromise  trial — court  is  generally  full  in  such  cases.  You 
ad  better  ring  for  a  coach,  my  dear  sir,  or  we  shall  be 
rather  late." 

Mr.  Pickwick  immediately  rang  the  bell:  and  a  coach 
having  been  procured,  the  four  Pickwickians  and  Mr. 


74  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Perker  ensconced  themselves  therein,  and  drove  to 
Guildhall:  Sam  Weller,  Mr.  Lowten,  and  the  blue  bag, 
following  in  a  cab. 

''Lowten/'  said  Perker,  when  they  reached  the  outer 
hall  of  the  court,  ''  put  Mr.  Pickwick's  friends  in  the 
students'  box;  Mr.  Pickwick  himself  had  better  sit  by 
me.  This  way,  my  dear  sir,  this  way."  Taking  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  coat  sleeve,  the  little  man  led  him  to 
the  low  seat  just  beneath  the  desks  of  the  King's  Coun- 
sel, which  is  constructed  for  the  convenience  of  attor- 
neys, who  from  that  spot  can  whisper  into  the  ear  of  the 
leading  counsel  in  the  case  any  instructions  that  may 
be  necessary  during  the  progress  of  the  trial.  The  occu- 
pants of  this  seat  are  invisible  to  the  great  body  of  spec- 
tators, inasmuch  as  they  sit  on  a  much  lower  level  than 
either  the  barristers  or  the  audience,  whose  seats  are 
raised  above  the  floor.  Of  course  they  have  their  backs 
to  both,  and  their  faces  towards  the  judge. 

''That's  the  witness-box,  I  suppose?"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, pointing  to  a  kind  of  pulpit,  with  a  brass  rail,  on 
his  left  hand. 

'  "  That's  the  witness-box,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Perker, 
disinterring  a  quantity  of  papers  from  the  blue  bag, 
which  Lowten  had  just  deposited  at  his  feet. 

"And  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pointing  to  a  couple 
of  enclosed  seats  on  his  right,  "that's  where  the  jury- 
men sit,  is  it  not?" 

"The  identical  place,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Perker, 
tapping  the  lid  of  his  snuff-box. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  up  in  a  state  of  great  agitation, 
and  took  a  glance  at  the  court.  There  were  already  a 
pretty  large  sprinkling  of  spectators  in  the  gallery,  and 
a  numerous  muster  of  gentlemen  in  wigs  in  the  barris- 
ters' seats:  who  presented,  as  a  body,  all  that  pleasing 
and  extensive  variety  of  nose  and  whisker  for  which  the 
bar  of  England  is  so  justly  celebrated.  Such  of  the  gen- 
tlemen as  had  a  brief  to  carry,  carried  it  in  as  conspic- 
uous a  manner  as  possible,  and  occasionally  scratched 
their  noses  therewith,  to  impress  the  fact  more  strongly 
on  the  observation  of  the  spectators.  Other  gentlemen, 
who  had  no  briefs  to  show,  carried  under  their  arms 
goodly  octavos,  with  a  red  label  behind,  and  that  under- 
done-pie-crust-coloured cover,  which  is  technically 
known  as  "law  calf."    Others,  who  had  neither  briefs 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


75 


nor  books,  thrust  their  hands  into  their  pockets,  and 
looked  as  wise  as  they  conveniently  could;  others,  again, 
moved  here  and  there  with  great  restlessness  and  earn- 
estness of  manner,  content  to  awaken  thereby  the  ad- 
miration and  astonishment  X)f  the  uninitiated  strangers. 
The  whole,  to  the  great  wonder  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  were 
divided  into  little  groups,  who  were  chatting  and  dis- 
cussing the  news  of  the  day  in  the  most  unfeeling  manner 
possible,  just  as  if  no  trial  at  all  w^ere  coming  on. 

A  bow  from  Mr.  Phunky,  as  he  entered  and  took  his 
seat  behind  the  row  appropriated  to  the  King's  Counsel, 
attracted  Mr.  Pickwick's  attention;  and  he  had  scarcely 
returned  it,  when  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  appeared,  fol- 
lowed by  Mr.  Mallard,  who  half  hid  the  Serjeant  behind 
a  large  crimson  bag,  which  he  placed  on  his  table,  and, 
after  shaking  hands  with  Perker,  withdrew.  Then  there 
entered  two  or  three  more  Serjeants:  and  among  them, 
one  with  a  fat  body  and  a  red  face,  who  nodded  in 
a  friendly  manner  to  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin,  and  said 
it  was  a  fine  morning. 

''Who's  that  red-faced  man,  who  said  it  was  a  fine 
morning,  and  nodded  to  our  counsel?"  whispered  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz,''  replied  Perker.  He's  opposed 
to  us;  he  leads  on  the  other  side.  That  gentleman  be- 
hind him  is  Mr.  Skimpin,  his  junior." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the  point  of  inquiring,  with  great 
abhorrence  of  the  man's  cold-blooded  villainy,  how  Mr. 
Serjeant  Buzfuz,  who  was  counsel  for  the  opposite  party, 
dared  to  presume  to  tell  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin,  who  was 
counsel  for  him,  that  it  was  a  fine  morning,  when  he 
was  interrupted  by  a  general  rising  of  the  barristers, 
and  a  loud  cry  of  "Silence!"  from  the  officers  of  the 
court.  Looking  round,  he  found  that  this  was  caused 
by  the  entrance  of  the  judge. 

Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  (who  sat  in  the  absence  of  the 
Chief  Justice,  occasioned  by  indisposition)  was  a  most 
particularly  short  man,  and  so  fat,  that  he  seemed  all 
face  and  waistcoat.  He  rolled  in,  upon  two  little  turned 
legs,  and  having  bobbed  gravely  to  the  bar,  who  bobbed 
gravely  to  him,  put  his  little  legs  underneath  his  table, 
and  his  little  three-cornered  hat  upon  it;  and  when  Mr. 
Justice  Stareleigh  had  done  this,  all  you  could  see  of  him 
was  two  queer  little  eyes,  one  broad  pink  face,  and 


76  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


somewhere  about  half  of  a  big  and  very  comical-looking 
wig. 

The  judge  had  no  sooner  taken  his  seat,  than  the  officer 
on  the  floor  of  the  court  called  out  Silence!"  in  a  com- 
manding tone,  upon  which  another  officer  in  the  gallery 
cried  "Silence!"  in  an  angry  manner,  whereupon  three 
or  four  more  ushers  shouted  "Silence!"  in  a  voice  of 
indignant  remonstrance.  This  being  done,  a  gentleman 
in  black,  who  sat  below  the  judge,  proceeded  to  call  over 
the  names  of  the  jury;  and,  after  a  great  deal  of  bawl- 
ing, it  was  discovered  that  only  ten  special  jurymen 
were  present.  Upon  this,  Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz  prayed 
a  tales;  the  gentleman  in  black  then  proceeded  to  press 
into  the  special  jury  two  of  the  common  jurymen;  and 
a  green-grocer  and  a  chemist  were  caught  directly. 

"Answer  to  your  names,  gentlemen,  that  you  may  be  • 
sworn,"  said  the  gentleman  in  black.    "  Richard  Up- 
witch." 

"Here,"  said  the  green-grocer. 

"Thomas  Groffin." 

"  Here,"  said  the  chemist. 

"Take  the  book,  gentlemen.    You  shall  well  and 

truly  try — " 

"I  beg  this  court's  pardon,"  said  the  chemist,  who 
was  a  tall,  thin,  yellow-visaged  man,  "but  I  hope  this 
court  will  excuse  my  attendance."  * 

"On  what  grounds,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh. 

"I  have  no  assistant,  my  Lord,"  said  the  chemist. 

"  I  can't  help  that,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh. 
"  You  should  hire  one." 

"I  can't  afford  it;  my  Lord,"  rejoined  the  chemist. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  able  to  afford  it,  sir,"  said  the 
judge,  reddening;  for  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh's  temper 
bordered  on  the  irritable,  and  brooked  not  contradiction. 

"I  know  I  ought  to  do,  if  I  got  on  as  well  as  T 
deserved,  but  I  don't,  my  Lord,"  answered  the  chemist. 

"  Swear  the  gentleman,"  said  the  judge,  peremptorily. 

The  officer  had  got  no  further  than  the  "You  shall 
well  and  truly  try,"  when  he  was  again  interrupted  by 
the  chemist. 

"  I  am  to  be  sworn,  my  Lord,  am  I? "  said  the  chemist. 
"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  the  testy  little  judge. 
"Very  well,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  chemist,  in  a  re- 
sig^ned  manner.    "Then  there  '11  be  murder  before  this 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


77 


trial's  over;  that's  all.  Swear  me,  if  you  please,  sir/' 
and  sworn  the  chemist  was,  before  the  judge  could  find 
words  to  utter. 

I  merely  wanted  to  observe,  my  Lord,"  said  the 
chemist,  taking  his  seat  with  great  deliberation,  ''that 
I've  left  nobody  but  an  errand-boy  in  my  shop.  He  is  a 
very  nice  boy,  my  Lord,  but  he  is  not  acquainted  with 
drugs;  and  I  know  that  the  prevailing  impression  on  his 
mind  is  that  Epsom  salts  means  oxalic  acid;  and  syrup 
of  senna,  laudanum.  That's  all,  my  Lord."  With  this, 
the  tall  chemist  composed  himself  into  a  comfortable 
attitude,  and,  assuming  a  pleasant  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, appeared  to  have  prepared  himself  for  the  worst. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  regarding  the  chemist  with  feelings 
of  the  deepest  horror,  when  a  slight  sensation  was  per- 
ceptible in  the  body  of  the  court;  and  immediately  after- 
wards Mrs.  Bardell,  supported  by  Mrs.  Cluppins,  w^as 
led  in,  and  placed,  in  a  drooping  state,  at  the  other  end 
of  the  seat  on  which  Mr.  Pickwick  sat.  An  extra-sized 
umbrella  was  then  handed  in  by  Mr.  Dodson,  and  a  pair 
of  pattens  by  Mr.  Fogg,  each  of  whom  had  prepared  a 
most  sympathizing  and  melancholy  face  for  the  occa- 
sion. Mrs.  Sanders  then  appeared,  leading  in  Master 
Bardell.  At  sight  of  her  child,  Mrs.  Bardell  started; 
suddenly  recollecting  herself,  she  kissed  him  in  a  frantic 
manner;  then  relapsing  into  a  state  of  hysterical  imbe- 
cility, the  good  lady  requested  to  be  informed  where  she 
was.  In  reply  to  this,  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs.  Sanders 
turned  their  heads  away  and  wept,  while  Messrs.  Dodson 
and  Fogg  entreated  the  plaintiff  to  compose  herself. 
Serjeant  Buzfuz  rubbed  his  eyes  very  hard  with  a  large 
white  handkerchief,  and  gave  an  appealing  look  towards 
the  jury,  while  the  judge  was  visibly  affected,  and  sev- 
eral of  the  beholders  tried  to  cough  down  their  emotions. 

''Very  good  notion  that,  indeed,"  whispered  Perkerto 
Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Capital  fellows  those  Dodson  and 
Fogg;  excellent  ideas  of  effect,  my  dear  sir,  excellent." 

As  Perker  spoke,  Mrs.  Bardell  began  to  recover  by 
slow  degrees,  while  Mrs.  Cluppins,  after  a  careful  sur- 
vey of  Master  Bardell's  buttons  and  the  button-holes  to 
which  they  severally  belonged,  placed  liim  on  the  floor 
of  the  court  in  front  of  his  mother — a  commanding  posi- 
tion, in  which  he  could  not  fail  to  awaken  the  full  com- 
miseration and  sympathy  of  both  judge  and  jury.  This 


78 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


was  not  done  without  considerable  opposition,  and  many- 
tears,  on  the  part  of  the  young  gentleman  himself,  who 
had  certain  inward  misgivings  that  the  placing  him 
within  the  full  glare  of  the  judge's  eye  was  only  a  formal 
prelude  to  his  being  immediately  ordered  away  for 
instant  execution,  or  fjor  transportation  beyond  the 
seas,  during  the  whole  term  of  his  natural  life,  at  the 
very  least. 

"  Bardell  and  Pickwick"  cried  the  gentleman  in  black, 
calling  on  the  case  which  stood  first  on  the  list. 

"  I  am  for  the  plaintiff,  my  Lord,"  said  Mr.  Serjeant 
Buzfuz. 

''  Who  is  with  you,  brother  Buzfuz?"  said  the  judge. 
Mr.  Skimpin  bowed,  to  intimate  that  he  was. 

''I  appear  for  the  defendant,  my  Lord,"  said  Mr.  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin. 

''Anybody  with  you,  brother  Snubbin?"  inquired  the 
court. 

"Mr.  Phunky,  my  Lord,  replied  Serjeant  Snubbin. 

"Serjeant  Buzfus  and  Mr.  Skimpin  for  the  plaintiff," 
said  the  judge,  writing  down  the  names  in  his  note-book, 
and  reading  as  he  wrote;  "for  the  defendant,  Serjeant 
Snubbin  and  Mr.  Monkey." 

"Beg  your  Lordship's  pardon,  Phunky." 

"Oh,  very  good,"  said  the  judge;  "I  never  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  the  gentleman's  name  before."  Here 
Mr.  Phunky  bowed  and  smiled,  and  the  judge  bowed 
and  smiled  too,  and  then  Mr.  Phunky,  blushing  into  the 
very  whites  of  his  eyes,  tried  to  look  as  if  he  didn't  know 
that  everybody  was  gazing  at  him:  a  thing  which  no 
man  ever  succeeded  in  doing  yet,  or,  in  all  reasonable 
probability,  ever  will. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  judge. 

The  ushers  again  called  silence,  and  Mr.  Skimpin 
again  proceeded  to  "open  the  case;"  and  the  case 
appeared  to  have  very  little  inside  it  when  he  had 
opened  it,  for  he  kept  such  particulars  as  he  knew,  com- 
pletely to  himself,  and  sat  down,  after  a  lapse  of  three 
minutes,  leaving  the  jury  in  precisely  the  same  advanced 
stage  of  wisdom  as  they  were  in  before. 

Serjeant  Buzfuz  then  rose  with  all  the  majesty 
and  dignity  which  the  grave  nature  of  the  pro- 
ceedings demanded,  and  having  whispered  to  Dodson, 
and  conferred   briefly  with  Fogg,  pulled  his  gown 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


79 


over  his  shoulders,  settled  his  wig,  and  addressed  the 
jury. 

Serjeant  Buzfuz  began  by  saying  that  never,  in  the 
whole  course  of  his  professional  experience — never,  from 
the  very  first  moment  of  his  applying  himself  to  the 
study  and  practice  of  the  law — had  he  approached  a  case 
with  feelings  of  such  deep  emotion,  or  with  such  a 
heavy  sense  of  the  responsibility  imposed  upon  him — a 
responsibility,  he  would  say,  which  he  could  never  have 
supported,  were  he  not  buoyed  up  and  sustained  by  a 
conviction,  so  strong  that  it  amounted  to  positive  cer- 
tainty, that  the  cause  of  truth  and  justice,  or,  in  other 
words,  the  cause  of  his  much-injured  and  most  oppressed 
client,  must  prevail  with  the  high-minded  and  intelli- 
gent dozen  of  men  whom  he  now  saw  in  that  box  before 
him. 

Counsel  always  begin  in  this  way,  because  it  puts  the 
jury  on  the  very  best  terms  with  themselves,  and  makes 
them  think  what  sharp  fellows  they  must  be.  A  visible 
effect  was  produced  immediately;  several  jurymen 
beginning  to  take  voluminous  notes  with  the  utmost 
eagerness. 

You  have  heard  from  my  learned  friend,  gentlemen," 
continued  Serjeant  Buzfus,  well  knowing  that,  from 
the  learned  friend  alluded  to,  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury 
had  heard  just  nothing  at  all — '*  you  have  heard  from 
my  learned  friend,  gentlemen,  that  this  is  an  action  for 
a  ijreach  of  promise  of  marriage,  in  which  the  damages 
are  laid  at  1500/.  But  you  have  not  heard  from  my 
learned  friend,  inasmuch  as  it  did  not  come  within  my 
learned  friend's  province  to  tell  you,  what  are  the  facts 
and  circumstances  of  the  case.  Those  facts  and  circum- 
stances, gentlemen,  you  shall  hear  detailed  by  me,  and 
proved  by  the  unimpeachable  female  whom  I  will  place 
in  that  box  before  you." 

Here  Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  with  a  tremendous  em- 
phasis on  the  word  box,"  smote  his  table  with  mighty 
sound,  and  glanced  at  Dodson  and  Fogg,  who  nodded 
admiration  of  the  Serjeant,  and  indignant  defiance  of 
the  defendant. 

"  The  plaintiff,  gentlemen,"  continued  Serjeant  Buz- 
fuz, in  a  soft  and  melancholy  voice,  ''the  plaintiff  is  a 
widow;  yes,  gentlemen,  a  widow.  The  late  Mr.  Bardell, 
after  enjoying  for  many  years  the  esteem  and  confi- 


80  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


dence  of  his  sovereign,  as  one  of  the  guardians  of  his 
royal  revenues,  glided  almost  imperceptibly  from  the 
world,  to  seek  elsewhere  for  that  repose  and  peace  which 
a  custom-house  can  never  afford.'' 

At  this  pathetic  description  of  the  decease  of  Mr. 
Bardell,  who  had  been  knocked  on  the  head  with  a  quart- 
pot  in  a  public-house  cellar,  the  learned  Serjeant's  voice 
faltered  and  he  proceeded  with  emotion: 

''Some  time  before  his  death,  he  had  stamped  his 
likeness  upon  a  little  boy.  With  this  little  boy,  the  only 
pledge  of  her  departed  exciseman,  Mrs.  Bardell  shrunk 
from  the  world,  and  courted  the  retirement  and  tran- 
quility of  Goswell  Street;  and  here  she  placed  in  her 
front  parlour-window  a  written  placard,  bearing  this 
inscription — '  Apartments  furnished  for  a  single  gentle- 
man. Inquire  w^ithin.'"  Here  Serjeant  Buzfuz  paused, 
while  several  gentlemen  of  the  jury  took  a  note  of  the 
document. 

"  There  is  no  date  to  that,  is  there,  sir  ? "  inquired  a 
juror. 

''There  is  no  date,  gentlemen,"  replied  Serjeant  Buzfuz: 
"  but  I  am  instructed  to  say  that  it  was  put  in  the  plain- 
tiff's parlour-window  just  this  time  three  years.  I  en- 
treat the  attention  of  the  jury  to  the  wording  of  this 
document — '  Apartments  furnished  for  a  single  gentle- 
man !  "  Mrs.  Bardell's  opinions  of  the  opposite  sex,  gen- 
tlemen, were  derived  from  a  long  contemplation  of  the 
inestimable  qualities  of  her  lost  husband.  She  had  no 
fear — she  had  no  distrust — she  had  no  suspicion — all  was 
confidence  and  reliance.  '  Mr.  Bardell,'  said  the  widow; 
'  Mr.  Bardell  was  a  man  of  honour — Mr.  Bardell  was  a 
man  of  his  word — Mr.  Bardell  was  no  deceiver — Mr. 
Bardell  was  once  a  single  gentleman  himself;  to  single 
gentlemen  I  look  for  protection,  for  assistance,  for  com- 
fort, and  for  consolation — in  single  gentlemen  I  shall 
perpetually  see  something  to  remind  me  of  what  Mr. 
Bardell  was,  when  he  first  won  my  young  and  untried 
affections:  to  a  single  gentleman,  then,  shall  my  lodg- 
ings be  let.'  Actuated  by  this  beautiful  and  touching 
impulse  (among  the  best  impulses  of  our  imperfect  na- 
ture, gentlemen)  the  lonely  and  desolate  widow  dried 
her  tears,  furnished  her  first  floor,  caught  her  innocent 
boy  to  her  maternal  bosom,  and  put  the  bill  up  in  her 
parlour-window.    Did  it  remain  there  long  ?  No.  The 


THE  TKIAI*. 

Pickwick  Papers. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLU&.  81 

serpent  was  on  the  watch,  the  train  was  laid,  the  mine 
was  preparing,  the  sapper  and  miner  was  at  work.  Be- 
fore the  bill  had  been  in  the  parlour-window  three  days 
— three  days,  gentlemen — a  Being,  erect  upon  two  legs, 
and  bearing  all  the  outward  semblance  of  a  man,  and 
not  of  a  monster,  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  BardelFs 
house.  He  inquired  within;  he  took  the  lodgings; 
and  on  the  very  next  day  he  entered  into  possession  of 
them.  This  man  was  Pickwick — Pickwick,  the  defend- 
ant." 

Serjeant  Buzfuz,  who  had  proceeded  with  such  volubil- 
ity that  his  face  was  perfectly  crimson,  here  paused  for 
breath.  The  silence  awoke  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh,  who 
immediately  wrote  down  something  with  a  pen  without 
any  ink  in  it,  and  looked  unusually  profound,  to  impress 
the  jury  with  the  belief  that  he  always  thought  most 
deeply  with  his  eyes  shut.    Serjeant  Buzfuz  proceeded. 

''Of  this  man  Pickwick,  I  will  say  little;  the  subject 
presents  but  few  attractions;  and  I,  gentlemen,  am  not 
the  man,  nor  are  you,  gentlemen,  the  men,  to  delight  in 
the  contemplation  of  revolting  heartlessness,  and  of  sys- 
tematic villainy." 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  writhing  in  silence 
for  some  time,  gave  a  violent  start,  as  if  some  vague 
idea  of  assaulting  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  in  the  august  presence 
of  justice  and  law,  suggested  itself  to  his  mind.  An  ad- 
monitory gesture  from  Perker  restrained  him,  an-d  he 
listened  to  the  learned  gentleman's  continuation  with  a 
look  of  indignation,  which  contrasted  forcibly  with  the 
admiring  faces  of  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  I  say  systematic  villany,  gentlemen,"  said  Serjeant 
Buzfuz,  looking  through  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  talking  at 
him;  "  and  when  I  say  systematic  villainy,  let  me  tell  the 
defendant,  Pickwick,. if  he  be  in  court,  as  I  am  informed 
he  is,  that  it  would  have  been  more  decent  in  him,  more 
becoming,  in  better  judgment,  and  in  better  taste,  if  he 
had  stopped  away.  Let  me  tell  him,  gentlemen,  that 
any  gestures  of  dissent  or  disapprobation  he  may  indulge 
in  in  this  court  will  not  go  down  with  you;  that  you  will 
know  how  to  value  and  how  to  appreciate  them;  and  let 
me  tell  him  further,  as  my  lord  will  tell  you,  gentlemen, 
that  a  counsel,  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  to  his  client, 
is  neither  to  be  intimidated  nor  bullied,  nor  put  down; 
and  that  any  attempt  to  do  either  the  one  or  the  other,  ov 


82  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


the  first,  or  the  last,  will  recoil  on  the  head  of  the  at- 
tempter,  be  he  plaintiff,  or  be  he  defendant,  be  his  name 
Pickwick,  or  Noakes,  or  Stoakes,  or  Stiles,  or  Brown,  or 
Thompson." 

This  little  divergence  from  the  subject  in  hand  had,  of 
course,  the  intended  effect  of  turning  all  eyes  to  Mr. 
Pickwick.  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  having  partially  recovered 
from  the  state  of  moral  elevation  into  which  he  had 
lashed  himself,  resumed: 

"  I  shall  show  you,  gentlemen,  that  for  two  years 
Pickwick  continued  to  reside  constantly,  and  without 
interruption  or  intermission,  at  Mrs.  Bardell's  house.  I 
shall  show  you  that  Mrs.  Bardell,  during  the  whole  of 
that  time,  waited  on  him,  attended  to  his  comforts, 
cooked  his  meals,  looked  out  his  linen  for  the  washer- 
woman vfhen  it  went  abroad,  darned,  aired,  and  pre- 
pared it  for  v/ear,  when  it  came  home,  and  in  short, 
enjoyed  his  fullest  trust  and  confidence.  I  shall*  show 
you  that  on  many  occasions  he  gave  halfpence,  and  on 
some  occasions  even  sixpences,  to  her  little  boy;  and  I 
shall  prove  .to  you,  by  a  witness  whose  testimony  it  is 
impossible  for  my  learned  friend  to  weaken  or  to  con- 
trovert, that  on  one  occasion  he  patted  the  boy  on  the 
head,  and,  after  inquiring  whether  he  had  won  any 
alley  tors  or  commoneys  lately  (both  of  which  I  under- 
stand to  be  a  particular  species  of  marble  much  prized 
by  the  youth  of  this  town),  made  use  of  this  remarkable 
expression — '  How  should  you  like  to  have  another 
father  ? '  I  shall  prove  to  you,  gentlemen,  that  about  a 
year  ago,  Pickwick  began  to  suddenly  absent  him- 
self from  home,  during  long  intervals,  as  if  with  the 
intention  of  gradually  breaking  off  from  my  client;  but 
I  shall  show  you,  also,  that  his  resolution  was  not  at 
this  time  sufficiently  strong,  or  that  his  better  feelings 
conquered,  if  better  feelings  he  has,  or  that  the  charms 
and  accomplishments  of  my  client  prevailed  against  his 
unmanly  intentions:  by  proving  to  you  that  on  one  oc- 
casion, when  he  returned  from  the  country,  he  distinctly 
and  in  terms,  offered  her  marriage:  previously  however, 
taking  special  care  that  there  should  be  no  witnesses  to 
their  solemn  contract;  and  I  am  in  a  situation  to  prove 
to  you,  on  the  testimony  of  three  of  his  own  friends — 
most  unwilling  witnesses,  gentlemen — most  unwilling 
witnesses — that  on  that  morning  he  was  discovered 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


83 


by  them  holding  the  plaintiff  in  his  arms,  and  sooth- 
ing her  agitation  by  his  caresses  and  endearments."  . 

A  visible  impression  was  produced  upon  the  auditors 
by  this  part  of  tiie  learned  Serjeant's  address.  Drawing 
forth  tv/o  very  small  scraps  of  paper,  he  proceeded: 

'•'And  now,  gentlemen,  but  one  word  more.  Two 
letters  have  passed  between  these  parties,  letters  which 
are  admitted  to  be  in  the  handwriting  of  the  defendant, 
and  which  speak  volumes  indeed.  These  letters,  too, 
bespeak  the  character  of  the  man.  They  are  not  open, 
fervent,  eloquent  epistles,  breathing  nothing  but  the 
language  of  affectionate  attachment.  They  are  covert, 
sly,  underhanded  communications,  but,  fortunately,  far 
more  conclusive  than  if  couched  in  the  most  glowing 
language  and  the  most  poetic  imagery — letters  that 
must  be  viewed  with  a  cautious  and  suspicious  eye — 
letters  that  were  evidently  intended  at  the  time  by  Pick- 
wick to  mislead  and  delude  any  third  parties  into  whose 
hands  they  might  fall.  Let  me  read  the  first: — '  Garra- 
way's,  twelve  o'clock.  Dear  Mrs.  B. — Chops  and  Tomata 
sauce.  Yours,  Pickwick.'  Gentlemen,  what  does  this 
mean?  Chops  and  Tomata  sauce.  Yours  Pickwick!  Chops! 
Gracious  heavens!  and  Tomata  sauce!  Gentlemen,  is 
the  happiness  of  a  sensitive  and  confiding  female  to  be 
trifled  away,  by  such  shallow  artifices  as  these?  The 
next  has  no  date  whatever,  which  is  in  itself  suspicious. 
— '  Dear  Mrs.  B.,  I  shall  not  be  at  home  till  to-morrow. 
Slow  coach.'  And  then  follows  this  very  remarkable 
expression — '  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  the  warm- 
ing-pan.' The  warming-pan!  Why,  gentlemen,  who 
does  trouble  himself  about  a  warming-pan?  When  was 
the  peace  of  mind  of  man  broken  or  disturbed  by  a 
warming-pan,  which  is  in  itself  a  harmless,  a  useful, 
and  I  will  add,  gentlemen,  a  comforting  article  of  do- 
mestic furniture?  Why  is  Mrs.  Bardell  so  earnestly 
entreated  not  to  agitate  herself  about  this  warming-pan, 
unless  (as  is  no  doubt  the  case)  it  is  a  mere  cover  for 
hidden  fire — a  mere  substitute  for  some  endearing  word 
or  promise,  agreeably  to  a  preconcerted  system  of  cor- 
respondence, artfully  contrived  by  Pickwick  with  a  view 
to  his  contemplated  desertion,  and  which  I  am  not  in  a 
condition  to  explain?  And  what  does  this  allusion  to 
the  slow  coach  mean?  For  aught  I  know,  it  may  be  a 
reference  to  Pickwick  himself,  who  has  most  unquestion- 


84  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ably  been  a  criminally  slow  coach  during  the  whole  of 
this  transaction,  but  whose  speed  will  now  be  very  un- 
expectedly accelerated,  and  whose  wheels,  gentlemen, 
as  he  will  find  to  his  cost,  will  very  soon  be  greased  by 
you!" 

Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz  paused  in  this  place,  to  see 
whether  the  jury  smiled  at  his  joke;  but  as  nobody  took 
it  but  the  green-grocer,  whose  sensitiveness  on  the  sub- 
ject was  very  probably  occasioned  by  his  having  sub- 
jected a  chaise-cart  to  the  process  in  question  on  that 
identical  morning,  the  learned  serjeant  considered  it 
advisable  to  undergo  a  slight  relapse  into  the  dismals 
before  he  concluded. 

''But  enough  of  this,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Serjeant 
Buzfuz;  ''  it  is  difficult  to  smile  with  an  aching  heart;  it 
is  ill  jesting  when  our  deepest  sympathies  are  awakened. 
My  client's  hopes  and  prospects  are  ruined,  and  it  is  no 
figure  of  speech  to  say  that  her  occupation  is  gone  in- 
deed. The  bill  is  down — but  there  is  no  tenant.  Eligible 
single  gentlemen  pass  and  repass — but  there  is  no  invita- 
tion for  them  to  inquire  within  or  without.  All  is  gloom 
and  silence  in  the  house;  even  the  voice  of  the  child  is 
hushed;  his  infant  sports  are  disregarded  when  his 
mother  weeps;  his  'alley  tors  '^andhis  'commoneys'  are 
alike  neglected;  he  forgets  the  long  familiar  cry  of 
'knuckle  down/  and  at  tip-cheese,  or  odd  and  even,  his 
hand  is  out.  But  Pickwick,  gentlemen,  Pickwick,  the 
ruthless  destroyer  of  this  domestic  oasis  in  the  desert  of 
Goswell  Street — Pickwick,  who  has  choaked  up  the  well, 
and  thrown  ashes  on  the  sward — Pickwick,  who  comes 
before  you  to-day  with  his  heartless  Tomata  sauce  and 
warming-pans — Pickwick  still  rears  his  head  with  un- 
blushing effrontery,  and  gazes  without  a  sigh  on  the 
ruin  he  has  made.  Damages,  gentlemen — heavy  dama- 
ges is  the  only  punishment  with  which  you  can  visit 
him;  the  only  recompence  you  can  award  to  my  client. 
And  for  these  damages  she  now  appeals  to  an  enlight- 
ened, a  high-minded,  a  right-feeling,  a  conscientious,  a 
dispassionate,  a  sympathizing,  a  contemplative  jury  of 
her  civilized  countrymen."  With  this  beautiful  perora- 
tion, Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz  sat  down,  and  Mr.  Justice 
Stareleigh  woke  up. 

"Call  Elizabeth  Cluppins,"  said  Serieant  Buzfuz, 
rising  a  minute  afterwards,  with  renewed  vigour. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


85 


The  nearest  usher  called  for  Elizabeth  Tuppins;  an- 
other one,  at  a  little  distance  off,  demanded  Elizabeth 
Jupkins;  and  a  third  rushed  in  a  breathless  state  into 
King  Street  and  screamed  for  Elizabeth  Muffins  till  he 
was  hoarse. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  the  combined  assist- 
arce  of  Mrs.  Bardell,  Mrs.  Sanders,  Mr.  Dodson,  and  Mr. 
Fogg,  was  hoisted  into  the  witness-box;  and  when  she 
was  safely  perched  on  the  top  step,  Mrs.  Bardell  stood 
on  the  bottom  one,  with  the  pocket-handkerchief  and 
pattens  in  one  hand,  and  a  glass  bottle  that  might  hold 
atout  a  quarter  of  a  pint  of  smelling  salts  in  the  other, 
ready  for  any  emergency.  Mrs.  Sanders,  whose  eyes 
were*^  intently  fixed  on  the  judge's  face,  planted  herself 
close  by,  with  the  large  umbrella:  keeping  her  right 
thumb  pressed  on  the  spring  with  an  earnest  counte- 
nance, as  if  she  were  fully  prepared  to  put  it  up  at  a 
moment's  notice. 

''Mrs.  Cluppins,"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  ''pray  com- 
pose yourself,  ma'am."  Of  course,  directly  Mrs!^  Clup- 
pins was  desired  to  compose  herself  she  sobbed  with 
increased  vehemence,  and  gave  divers  alarming  mani- 
festations of  an  approaching  fainting  fit,  or,  as  she  after- 
wards said,  of  her  feelings  being  too  many  for  her. 

"Do  you  recollect,  Mrs.  Cluppins?"  said  Serjeant 
Buzfus,  after  a  few  unimportant  questions,  "do  recollect 
being  in  Mrs.  Bardell's  back  one  pair  of  stairs,  on  one 
particular  morning  in  July  last,  when  she  was  dusting 
Pickwick's  apartment  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  Lord  and  Jury,  I  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick's  sitting-room  was  the  first-floor  front, 
I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  were,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"What  were  you  doing  in  the  back  room,  ma'am 
inquired  the  little  judge. 

"  My  Lord  and  Jury,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  inter- 
esting agitation,  "  I  will  not  deceive  you." 

"  You  had  better  not,  ma'am,"  said  the  little  judge. 

"  I  was  there,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "  unbeknown 
to  Mrs.  Bardell;  I  had  been  out  with  a  little  basket, 
gentlemen,  to  buy  three  pound  of  red  kidney  purtaties, 
which  was  three  pound  tuppense  ha*penny,  when  I  see 
Mrs.  Bardell's  street  door  on  the  jar/' 


86  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

On  the  what  ?  "  exclaimed  the  little  judge. 

''Partly  open,  my  Lord,"  said  Serjeant  Snubbin. 
She  said  on  the  jar,"  said  the  little  judge,  with  a 
cunning  look. 

"  It's  all  the  same,  my  Lord,"  said  Serjeant  Snubbin. 
The  little  judge  looked  doubtful,  and  said  he'd  make  a 
note  of  it.    Mrs.  Cluppins  then  resumed: 

"  I  walked  in,  gentlemen,  just  to  say  good  mornin'i 
and  went,  in  a  permiscuous  manner,  up  stairs,  and  int([  ' 
the  back  room.    Gentlemen,  there  was  the  sound  o: 
Voices  in  the  front  room,  and — " 

''And  you  listened,  I  believe,  Mrs.  Cluppins  ?"  saic 
Serjeant  Buzfuz. 

"Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins.  in 
a  majestic  manner,  "  I  would  scorn  the  haction.  The 
voices  was  very  loud,  and  forced  themselves  upon  my 
ear." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Cluppins,  you  were  not  listenings  but 
you  heard  the  voices.  Was  one  of  those  voices  Pick- 
wick's ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  were,  sir." 

"  And  Mrs.  Cluppins,  after  distinctly  stating  that  Mr. 
Pickwick  addressed  himself  to  Mrs.  Bardell,  repeated, 
by  slow  degrees,  and  by  dint  of  many  questions,  the 
conversation  with  which  our  readers  are  already  ac- 
quainted. 

The  jury  looked  suspicious,  and  Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz 
smiled  and  sat  down.  They  looked  positively  awful 
when  Serjeant  Snubbin  intimated  that  he  would  not 
cross-examine  the  witness,  for  Mr.  Pickwick  wished  it  to 
be  distinctly  stated  that  it  was  due  to  her  to  say  that 
her  account  was  in  substance  correct. 

Mrs.  Cluppins  having  once  broken  the  ice,  thought  it 
a  favourable  opportunity  for  entering  into  a  short  dis- 
sertation on  her  own  domestic  affairs;  so,  she  straight- 
way proceeded  to  inform  the  court  that  she  was  the 
mother  of  eight  children  at  that  present  speaking,  and 
that  she  entertained  confident  expectations  of  present- 
ing Mr.  Cluppins  with  a  ninth,  somewhere  about  that 
day  six  months.  At  this  interesting  point,  the  little 
judge  interposed  most  irascibly;  and  the  effect  of  the 
interposition  was,  that  both  the  worthy  lady  and  Mrs. 
Sanders  were  politely  taken  out  of  court,  under  the 
escort  of  Mr.  Jackson,  without  further  parley. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


87 


''Nathaniel  Winkle!"  said  Mr.  Skimpin. 

''Here!"  replied  a  feeble  voice.  Mr.  Winkle  entered 
the  witness-box,  and  having  been  duly  sworn,  bowed  to 
the  judge  with  considerable  deference. 

"Don't  look  at  me,  sir,"  said  the  judge,  sharply,  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  salute;  "look  at  the  jury." 

Mr.  Winkle  obeyed  the  mandate,  and  looked  at  the 
place  where  he  thought  it  most  probable  the  jury  might 
be;  for  seeing  anything  in  his  then  state  of  intellectual 
complication  was  wholly  out  of  the  question. 

Mr.  Winkle  was  then  examined  by  Mr.  Skimpin,  who, 
being  a  promising  young  man  of  two  or  three  and  forty, 
was  of  course  anxious  to  confuse  a  witness  who  was 
notoriously  predisposed  in  favour  of  the  other  side,  as 
much  as  he  could. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  "  have  the  goodness  to 
let  his  Lordship  and  the  jury  know  what  your  name  is, 
will  you?"  And  Mr.  Skimpin  inclined  his  head  on  one 
side  to  listen  with  great  sharpness  to  the  answer,  and 
glanced  at  the  jury  meanwhile,  as  if  to  imply  that  he 
rather  expected  Mr.  Winkle's  natural  taste  for  perjury 
would  induce  him  to  give  some  name  which  did  not  be- 
long to  him. 

"  Winkle,"  replied  the  witness. 

"What's  your  Christian  name,  sir?"  angrily  inquired 
the  little  judge. 

"  Nathaniel,  sir." 

"Daniel — any  other  name?" 

"  Nathaniel,  sir — my  Lord,  I  mean." 

"  Nathaniel  Daniel,  or  Daniel  Nathaniel?" 

"  No,  my  Lord,  only  Nathaniel — not  Daniel  at  all." 

"  What  did  you  tell  me  it  was  Daniel  for  then,  sir?" 
inquired  the  judge. 

"  I  didn't,  my  Lord,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  You  did,  sir,"  replied  the  judge,  with  a  severe  frown. 
"  How  could  I  have  got  Daniel  on  my  notes,  unless  you 
told  me  so,  sir?" 

This  argument  was,  of  course,  unanswerable. 

"  Mr.  Winkle  has  rather  a  short  memory,  my  Lord," 
interposed  Mr.  Skimpin,  with  another  glance  at  the  jury. 
"  We  shall  find  means  to  refresh  it  before  we  have  quite 
done  with  him,  I  dare  say." 

"  You  had  better  be  careful,  sir,"  said  the  little  judge, 
with  a  sinister  look  at  the  vv^itness. 


88  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Poor  Mr.  Winkle  bowed,  and  endeavoured  to  feign 
an  easiness  of  mannei ,  which,  in  his  then  state  of  con- 
fusion, gave  him  rather  the  air  of  a  disconcerted  pick- 
pocket. 

''Now,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  ''attend  to 
me,  if  you  please,  sir;  and  let  me  recommend  you,  for 
your  own  sake,  to  bear  in  mind  his  Lordship's  injunc- 
tions to  be  careful.  I  believe  you  are  a  particular  friend 
of  Pickwick,  the  defendant,  are  you  not?" 

"I  have  known  Mr.  Pickwick  now,  as  well  as  I  recol- 
lect at  this  moment,  nearly — " 

"Pray,  Mr.  Winkle,  do  not  evade  the  question.  Are 
you,  or  are  you  not,  a  particular  friend  of  the  defend- 
ant's?" 

"I  was  just  about  to  say,  that — " 

"  Will  you,  or  will  you  not,  answer  my  question,  sir?" 

"If  you  don't  answer  the  question,  you'll  be  com- 
mitted, sir,"  interposed  the  little  judge,  looking  over  his 
note-book. 

"Come,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  "yes  or  no,  if  you 
please." 

"Yes,  I  am,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Yes,  you  are.  And  why  couldn't  you  say  that  at 
once,  sir?  Perhaps  you  know  the  plaintiff  too— eh,  Mr. 
Winkle?" 

"  I  don't  know  her;  I've  seen  her." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  her,  but  you've  seen  her?  Now, 
have  the  goodness  to  tell  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury 
what  you  mean  by  that,  Mr.  Winkle." 

"I  mean  that  I  am  not  intimate  with  her,  but  that  I 
have  seen  her  when  I  went  to  call  on  Mr.  Pickwick,  in 
Goswell  Street." 

"  How  often  have  you  seen  her,  sir?" 

"How  often  ?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Winkle,  how  often  ?  I'll  repeat  the  ques- 
tion for  you  a  dozen  times,  if  you  require  it,  sir."  And 
the  learned  gentleman,  with  a  firm  and  steady  frown, 
placed  his  hands  on  his  hips,  and  smiled  suspiciously  at 
the  jury. 

On  this  question  there  arose  the  edifying  brow-beat- 
ing, customary  on  such  points.  First  of  all,  Mr.  Winkle 
said  it  was  quite  impossible  for  him  to  say  how  many 
times  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Bardell.  Then  he  was  asked  if 
he  had  seen  her  twenty  times,  to  which  he  replied^ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  89 

^ ^Certainly — more  than  that."  Then  he  was  asked  if  he 
hadn't  seen  her  a  hundred  times — whether  he  couldn't 
swear  that  he  had  seen  her  more  than  fifty  times— 
whether  he  didn't  know  that  he  had  seen  her  at  least 
seventy -five  times — and  so  forth  ;  the  satisfactory  con- 
clusion which  was  arrived  at,  at  last,  being,  that  he  had 
better  take  care  of  himself,  and  mind  what  he  was 
about.  The  witness  having  been  by  these  means  re- 
duced to  the  requisite  ebb  of  nervous  perplexity,  the 
examination  was  continued  as  follows  : 

"  Pray,  Mr.  Winkle,  do  you  remember  calling  on  the 
defendant  Pickwick  at  these  apartments  in  the  plain- 
tiff's house  in  Goswell  Street,  on  one  particular  morning, 
in  the  month  of  July  last  ?  " 
Yes,  I  do." 

''Were  you  accompanied  on  that  occasion  by  a  friend 
of  the  name  of  Tupman,  and  another  of  the  name  of 
Snodgrass  ?  " 

''Yes,  I  was." 

"  Are  they  here  ?" 

'•Yes,  they  are,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  looking  very 
earnestly  towards  the  spot  where  his  friends  were  sta- 
tioned. 

"  Pray  attend  to  me,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  never  mind  your 
friends,"  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  with  another  expressive  look 
at  the  jury.  "  They  must  tell  their  stories  without  any 
previous  consultation  with  you,  if  none  has  yet  taken 
place  (another  look  at  the  jury).  Now,  sir,  tell  the  gen- 
tlemen of  the  jury  what  you  saw  on  entering  the  defend- 
ant's room,  on  this  particular  morning.  Come ;  out 
with  it,  sir;  we  must  have  it,  sooner  or  later." 

"  The  defendant,  Mr.  Pickwick,  was  holding  the  plain- 
tiff in  his  arms,  with  his  hands  clasping  her  waist," 
replied  Mr.  Winkle,  with  natural  hesitation,  "and  the 
plaintiff  appeared  to  have  fainted  away." 

"  Did  you  hear  the  defendant  say  anything  ?" 

"  I  heard  him  call  Mrs.  Bardell  a  good  creature,  and  I 
heard  him  ask  her  to  compose  herself,  for  what  a  situa- 
tion it  was  if  anybody  should  come,  or  words  to  that 
effect." 

"Now,  Mr.  Winkle,  I  liave  only  one  more  question  to 
ask  you,  and  I  beg  you  to  bear  in  mind  his  Lordship's 
caution.  Will  you  undertake  to  swear  that  Pickwick, 
the  defendant;  aid  not  say  on  the  gecasion  in  question, 


90  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


'  My  dear  Mrs.  Bardell,  you're  a  good  crestture;  compose 
yourself  to  this  situation,  for  to  this  situation  you  must 
come/  or  words  to  that  effect  ?" 

"  I — I  didn't  understand  him  so,  certainly,"  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  astounded  at  this  ingenious  dove-tailing  of  the 
few  words  he  had  heard.  ''I  was  on  the  staircase,  and 
couldn't  hear  distinctly;  the  impression  on  my  mind  is—-" 

"  The  gentlemen  of  the  jury  want  none  of  the  impres- 
sions on  your  mind,  Mr.  Winkle,  which  I  fear  would  be 
of  little  service  to  honest,  straightforward  men,"  inter- 
posed Mr.  Skimpin.  "  You  were  on  the  staircase,  and 
didn't  distinctly  hear;  but  you  will  not  swear  that  Pick- 
wick did  not  make  use  of  the  expressions  I  have  quoted? 
Do  I  understand  that  ?" 

No,  I  will  not,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  and  down  sat 
Mr.  Skimpin,  with  a  triumphant  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  case  had  not  gone  off  in  so  particularly 
happy  a  manner,  up  to  this  point,  that  it  could  very  well 
afford  to  have  any  additional  suspicion  cast  upon  it. 
But  as  it  could  afford  to  be  placed  in  rather  a  better 
light,  if  possible,  Mr.  Phunky  rose  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  something  important  out  of  Mr.  Winkle  in 
cross-examination.  Whether  he  did  get  anything  im- 
portant out  of  him,  will  immediately  appear. 

"  I  believe,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Phunky,  ''that  Mr. 
Pickwick  is  not  a  young  man  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  ;  "  old  enough  to  be  my 
father." 

You  have  told  my  learned  friend  that  you  have 
known  Mr.  Pickwick  a  long  time.  Had  you  ever  any 
reason  to  suppose  or  believe  that  he  was  about  to  be 
married? " 

Oh,  no;  certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  with  so 
much  eagerness,  that  Mr.  Phunky  ought  to  have  got 
him  out  of  the  box  with  all  possible  despatch.  Lawyers 
hold  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  particularly  bad  wit- 
nesses; a  reluctant  witness,  and  a  too  willing  witness; 
it  was  Mr.  Winkle's  fate  to  figure  in  both  characters. 

''I  will  even  go  further  than  this,  Mr.  Winkle,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Phunky,  in  a  most  smooth  and  complacent 
manner.  "  Did  you  ever  see  anything  in  Mr.  Pickwick's 
manner  and  conduct  towards  the  opposite  sex  to  induce 
you  to  believe  that  he  ever  contemplated  matrimony  of 
late  years,  in  any  case?" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


91 


^'Oh,  no;  certainly  not/'  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Has  his  behaviour,  when  females  have  been  in  the 
case,  always  been  that  of  a  man  who,  having  attained 
a  pretty  advanced  period  of  life,  content  v/ith  his  own 
occupations  and  amusements,  treats  them  only  as  a 
father  might  his  daughters  ?" 

Not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  in  the 
fulness  of  his  heart.  "  That  is — yes — oh,  yes — certainly." 

You  have  never  known  anything  in  his  behaviour 
towards  Mrs.  Bardell  or  any  other  female  in  the  least 
degree  suspicious?"  said  Mr.  Phunky,  preparing  to  sit 
down;  for  Serjeant  Snubbin  was  winking  at  him. 

''N — n — no,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  ''except  on  one 
trifling  occasion,  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  might  be  easily 
explained." 

Now,  if  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Phunky  had  sat  down 
when  Serjeant  Snubbin  winked  at  him,  or  if  Serjeant 
Buzfuz  had  stopped  this  irregular  cross-examination  at 
the  outset  (which  he  knew  better  than  to  do;  observ- 
ing Mr.  Winkle's  anxiety,  and  well  knowing  it  would,  in 
all  probability,  lead  to  something  serviceable  to  him), 
this  unfortunate  admission  would  not  have  been  elicited. 
The  moment  the  words  fell  from  Mr.  Winkle's  lips,  Mr. 
Phunky  sat  down,  and  Serjeant  Snubbin  rather  hastily 
told  him  he  might  leave  the  box,  which  Mr.  Winkle  pre- 
pared to  do  with  great  readiness,  when  Serjeant  Buzfuz 
stopped  him. 

"  Stay,  Mr.  Winkle— stay !"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz;  ''will 
your  Lordship  have  the  goodness  to  ask  him  what  this 
one  instance  of  suspicious  behaviour  towards  females 
on  the  part  of  this  gentleman,  who  is  old  enough  to  be 
his  father,  was?" 

"You  hear  what  the  learned  counsel  says,  sir?"  ob- 
served the  judge,  turning  to  the  miserable  and  agonized 
Mr.  Winkle.  "Describe  the  occasion  to  which  you  re- 
fer." 

"  My  Lord,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  with  anxiety, 
"I— I'd  rather  not." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  the  little  judge;  "but  you  must." 

Amid  the  profound  silence  of  the  whole  court,  Mr. 
Winkle  faltered  out  that  the  trifling  circumstance  of 
suspicion  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  being  found  in  a  lady's 
sleeping  apartment  at  midnight;  which  had  terminated, 
he  believed,  in  the  breaking  off  of  the  projected  mar- 


92  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

riage  of  the  lady  in  question,  and  had  led,  he  knew,  to 
the  whole  party  being  forcibly  carried  before  George 
Nupkins,  Esq.,  magistrate  and  justice  of  the  peace,  for 
the  borough  of  Ipswich. 

''You  may  leave  the  box,  sir," said  Serjeant  Snubbin. 
Mr.  Winkle  did  leave  the  box,  and  rushed  with  delirious 
haste  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  where  he  was  discov- 
ered some  hours  after,  by  the  waiter,  groaning  in  a  hol- 
low and  dismal  manner,  with  his  head  buried  beneath 
the  sofa  cushions. 

Tracy  Tupman  and  Augustus  Snodgrass  were  severally 
called  into  the  box;  both  corroborated  the  testimony  of 
their  unhappy  friend;  and  each  was  driven  to  the  verge 
of  desperation  by  excessive  badgering. 

Susannah  Sanders  was  then  called,  and  examined  by 
Serjeant  Buzfuz,  and  cross-examined  by  Serjeant  Snub- 
bin.  Had  always  said  and  believed  that  Pickwick  would 
marry  Mrs.  Bardell;  knew  that  Mrs.  Bardell's  being  en- 
gaged to  Pickwick  was  the  current  topic  of  conversa- 
tion in  the  neighbourhood,  after  the  fainting  in  July;  had 
been  told  it  herself  by  Mrs.  Mudberry  which  kept  a  man- 
gle, and  Mrs.  Bunkin  which  clear-starched,  but  did  not 
see  either  Mrs.  Mudberry  or  Mrs.  Bunkin  in  court.  Had 
heard  Pickwick  ask  the  little  boy  how  he  should  like  to 
have  another  father.  Did  not  know  that  Mrs.  Bardell 
was  at  that  time  keeping  company  with  the  baker,  but 
did  know  that  the  baker  was  then  a  single  man  and  is 
now  married.  Couldn't  swear  that  Mrs.  Bardell  was 
not  very  fond  of  the  baker,  but  should  think  that  the 
baker  was  not  very  fond  of  Mrs.  Bardell  or  he  wouldn't 
have  married  somebody  else.  Thought  Mrs.  Bardell 
fainted  away  on  the  morning  in  July  because  Pickwick 
asked  her  to  name  the  da}^;  knew  that  she  (witness) 
fainted  away  stone  dead  when  Mr.  Sanders  asked  her  to 
name  the  day,  and  believed  that  everybody  as  called 
herself  a  lady  would  do  the  same,  under  similar  circum- 
stances. Heard  Pickwick  ask  the  boy  the  question 
about  the  marbles,  but  upon  her  oath  did  not  know  the 
difference  between  an  alley  tor  and  a  commoney. 

By  the  Court. — During  the  period  of  her  keeping  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Sanders  had  received  love  letters,  like 
other  ladies.  In  the  course  of  their  correspondence  Mr. 
Sanders  had  often  called  her  a  ''duck/'  but  never 

phops  "  nor  yet "  tomata  sauce."  He  was  particularly 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


93 


fond  of  ducks.  Perhaps  if  he  had  been  as  fond  of  chops 
and  tomata  sauce,  he  might  have  called  her  that,  as  a 
term  of  affection. 

Serjeant  Buzfuz  now  rose  with  more  importance  than 
he  had  j  et  exhibited,  if  that  were  possible,  and  vocif- 
erated, ^^Call  Samuel  Weller."- 

It  was  quite  unnecessary  to  call  Samuel  Weller;  for 
Samuel  Weller  stepped  briskly  into  the  box  the  instant 
his  name  was  pronounced;  and  placing  his  hat  on  the 
floor,  and  his  arms  on  the  rail,  took  a  bird's-eye  view  of 
the  bar,  and  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the  bench  with 
a  remarkably  cheerful  and  lively  aspect. 

What's  your  name,  sir?"  inquired  the  judge. 
Sam  Weller,  my  Lord,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

''Do  you  spell  it  with  a  '  V  or  a  '  W?'"  inquired  the 
judge. 

"  That  depends  upon  the  taste  and  fancy  of  the  speller, 
my  Lord,"  replied  Sam;  "1  never  had  occasion  to  spell 
it  more  than  once  or  twice  in  my  life,  but  I  spells  it  with 
a  'V.'" 

Here  a  voice  in  the  gallery  exclaimed  aloud,  "  Quite 
right  too,  Samivel:  quite  right.  Put  it  down  a  we,  my 
Lord,  put  it  down  a  we." 

''Who  is  that  who  dares  to  address  the  court?"  said 
the  little  judge,  looking  up.    "  Usher." 

"Yes,  my  Lord." 

"Bring  that  person  here  instantly." 
"Yes,  my  Lord." 

But  as  the  usher  didn't  find  the  person,  he  didn't  bring 
him;  and,  after  a  great  commotion,  all  the  people  who 
had  got  up  to  look  for  the  culprit,  sat  down  again.  The 
little  judge  turned  to  the  witness  as  soon  as  his  indigna- 
tion would  allow  him  to  speak,  and  said: 

"  Do  you  know  who  that  was,  sir?" 

"I  rayther  suspect  it  was  my  father,  my  Lord,"  re- 
plied Sam. 

" Do  you  see  him  here  now?"  said  the  judge. 

"No,  I  don't,  my  Lord,"  replied  Sam,  staring  right  up 
into  the  lantern  in  the  roof  of  the  court. 

"If  you  could  have  pointed  him  out,  I  would  have 
committed. him  instantly,"  said  the  judge. 

Sam  bowed  his  acknowledgments  and  turned,  with 
unimpaired  cheerfulness  of  countenance,  towards  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz. 


94  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''Now,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz. 
''Now,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"I  believe  you  are  in  the  service  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  the 
defendant  in  this  case.  Speak  up,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Weller." 

"  I  mean  to  speak  up,  sir,  replied  Sam.  "  I  am  in  the 
service  o'  that  'ere  geiil'man,  and  a  werry  good  service 
it  is." 

•'Little  to  do,  and  plenty  to  get,  I  suppose?"  said  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz,  with  jocularity. 

"  Oh,  quite  enough  to  get,  sir,  as  the  soldier  said  ven 
they  ordered  him  three  hundred  and  fifty  lashes,"  re- 
plied Sam. 

"You  must  not  tell  us  what  the  soldier,  or  any  other 
man,  said,  sir,"  interposed  the  judge,  "it's  not  evi- 
dence." 

"Werry  good,  my  Lord,"  replied  Sam. 

"Do  you  recollect  anything  particular  happening  on 
the  morning  when  you  were  first  engaged  by  the  de- 
fendant; eh,  Mr.  Weller?"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz. 

"Yes,  I  do,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  tell  the  jury  what  it  was." 

"I  had  a  reg'lar  new  fit  out  o'  clothes  that  mornin', 
gen'l'men  of  the  jury,"  said  Sam,  "and  that  was  a  werry 
partickler  and  uncommon  circumstance  vith  me  in  those 
days." 

Hereupon  there  was  a  general  laugh;  and  the  little 
judge  looking  with  an  angry  countenance  over  his  desk, 
said,  "You  had  better  be  careful,  sir." 

"So  Mr.  Pickwick  said  at  the  time,  my  Lord,"  replied 
Sam,  "  and  I  was  werry  careful  o'  that  'ere  suit  o' 
clothes;  werry  careful  indeed,  my  Lord." 

The  judge  looked  sternly  at  Sam  for  full  two  minutes, 
but  Sam's  features  were  so  perfectly  calm  and  serene 
that  the  judge  said  nothing,  and  motioned  Serjeant  Buz- 
fuz to  proceed. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Serjeant 
Buzfuz,  folding  his  arms  emphatically,  and  turning  half 
round  to  the  jury,  as  if  in  mute  assurance  that  he  would 
bother  the  witness  yet — "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr. 
Weller,  that  you  saw  nothing  of  this  fainting  on  the 
part  of  the  plaintiff  in  the  arms  of  the  defendant,  which 
you  have  heard  described  by  the  witnesses?  " 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Sam,  "  I  was  in  the  passage 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


95 


'till  they  called  me  up,  and  then  the  old  lady  was  not 
there." 

^'Now,  attend,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz, 
dipping  a  large  pen  into  the  inkstand  before  him,  for 
the  purpose  of  frightening  Sam  with  a  show  of  taking- 
down  his  answer.  ''You  were  in  the  passage  and  yet 
saw  nothing  of  what  was  going  forward.  Have  you  a 
pair  of  eyes,  Mr.  Weller?" 

''Yes,  I  have  a  pair  of  eyes,"  replied  Sam,  "and  that's 
just  it.  If  they  wos  a  pair  o'  patent  double  million  mag- 
nifyin'  gas  microscopes  of  hextra  power,  p'raps  I  might 
be  able  to  see  through  a  flight  o'  stairs  and  a  deal  door; 
but  bein'  only  eyes,  you  see,  my  wision's  limited." 

At  this  answer,  which  was  delivered  without  the  slight- 
est appearance  of  irritation,  and  with  the  most  complete 
simplicity  and  equanimity  of  manner,  thg  spectators  tit- 
tered, the  little  judge  smiled,  and  Serjeant  Buzfuz  looked 
particularly  foolish.  After  a  short  consultation  with 
Dodson  and  Fogg,  the  learned  Serjeant  again  turned 
towards  Sam,  and  said,  with  a  painful  effort  to  conceal 
his  vexation,  "Now,  Mr.  Weller,  I'll  ask  you  a  question 
on  another  point,  if  you  please." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  rejoined.  Sam,  with  the  utmost 
good-humour. 

"Do  you  remember  going  up  to  Mrs.  Bardell's  house, 
one  night  in  November  last.^" 

"Oh,  yes,  werry  well." 

"Oh,  you  do  remember  that,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz,  recovering  his  spirits,  "I  thought  we 
should  get  at  something  at  last." 

"  I  rayther  thought  that,  too,  sir,"  replied  Sam;  and 
at  this  the  spectators  tittered  again. 

"Well;  I  suppose  you  went  up  to  have  a  little  talk 
about  this  trial — eh,  Mr.  Weller?"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz, 
looking  knowingly  at  the  jury. 

"I  went  up  to  pay  the  rent:  but  we  did  get  a  talkin' 
about  the  trial,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Oh,  you  did  ^et  a  talking  about  the  trial,"  said  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz,  brightening  up  with  the  anticipation  of 
some  important  discovery.  "Now,  what  passed  about 
the  trial;  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  us,  Mr. 
Weller?" 

*^Vith  all  the  pleasure  in  life,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 
"  Arter  a  few  unimportant  obserwations  from  the  two 


9C  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


wirtuous  females  as  has  been  examined  here  to-day,  the 
ladies  gets  into  a  werry  great  state  o'  admiration  at  the 
honourable  conduct  of  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fo^g — them  two 
gen'l'men  as  is  settin'  near  you  now."  This,  of  course, 
drew  general  attention  to  Dodson  and  Fogg,  who  looked 
as  virtuous  as  possible. 

"  The  attornies  for  the  plaintiff,"  said  Mr.  Serjeant 
Buzfuz;  well,  they  spoke  in  high  praise  of  the  honour- 
able conduct  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  the  attornies 
for  the  plaintiff,  did  they?" 

Yes,"  said  Sam,  '^they  said  what  a  worry  gen'rous 
thing  it  was  o'  them  to  have  taken  up  the  case  on  spec, 
and  to  charge  nothin'  at  all  for  costs,  unless  they  got  'em 
out  of  Mr.  Pickwick." 

At  this  very  unexpected  reply  the  spectators  tittered 
again,  and  Dodson  and  Fogg,  turning  very  red,  leant 
over  to  SerjeeCnt  Buzfuz,  and  in  a  hurried  manner  whis- 
pered something  in  his  ear. 

''You  are  quite  right,"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz  aloud, 
with  affected  composure.  ''It's  perfectly  useless,  my 
Lord,  attempting  to  get  any  evidence  through  the  im- 
penetrable stupidity  of  the  witness.  I  will  not  trouble 
the  court  by  asking  him  any  more  questions.  Stand 
down,  sir." 

"Would  any  other  gen'Fman  like  to  ask  me  any  thin'?" 
inquired  Sam,  taking  up  his  hat,  and  looking  round  most 
deliberately. 

"  Not  I,  Mr.  Weller,  thank  you,"  said  Serjeant  Snubbin, 
laughing. 

"You  may  go  down,  sir,"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  wav- 
ing his  hand  impatiently.  Sam  went  down  accordingly, 
after  doing  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg's  case  as  much 
harm  as  he  conveniently  could,  and  saying  just  as  little 
respecting  Mr.  Pickwick  as  might  be,  which  was  pre- 
cisely the  object  he  had  had  in  view  all  along. 

"I  have  no  objection  to  admit,  my  Lord,"  said  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin,  "if  it  will  save  the  examination  of 
i^nother  witness,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  has  retired  from 
business,  and  is  a  gentleman  of  considerable  independent 
property." 

"Very  well,"  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  putting  in  the  two 
letters  to  be  read.    "  Then  that's  my  case,  my  Lord." 

Serjeant  Snubbin  then  addressed  the  jury  on  behalf  of 
the  defendant;  and  a  very  long  and  very  emphatic  ad- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


97 


dress  he  delivered,  in  which  he  bestowed  the  highest 
possible  eulogiums  on  the  conduct  and  character  of  Mr. 
rickwick;  but  inasmuch  as  our  readers  are  far  better 
able  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  that  gentleman's 
merits  and  deserts,  than  Serjeant  Snubbin  could  possibly 
be,  we  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  enter  at  any  length 
into  the  learned  gentleman's  observations.  He  attempted 
to  show  that  the  letters  which  had  been  exhibited  merely 
related  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  dinner,  or  to  the  preparations 
for  receiving  him  in  his  apartments  on  his  return  from 
some  country  excursion.  It  is  sufficient  to  add,  in  gen- 
eral terms,  that  he  did  the  best  he  could  for  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; and  the  best,  as  everybody  knows,  on  the  infalli- 
ble authority  of  the  old  adage,  could  do  no  more. 

Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  summed  up  in  the  old-estab- 
lished and  most  approved  form.  He  read  as  much  of 
his  notes  to  the  jury  as  he  could  decipher  on  so  short  a 
notice,  and  made  running  comments  on  the  evidence  as 
he  went  along.  If  Mrs.  Bardell  were  right,  it  was  per- 
fectly clear  Mr.  Pickwick  was  wrong,  and  if  they  thought 
the  evidence  of  Mrs.  Cluppins  worthy  of  credence  they 
would  believe  it,  and,  if  they  didn't,  why  they  wouldn't.  If 
they  were  satisfied  that  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage 
had  been  committed,  they  would  find  for  the  plaintiff 
with  such  damages  as  they  thought  proper;  and  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  appeared  to  them  that  no  promise  of 
marriage  had  ever  been  given,  they  would  find  for  the 
defendant  with  no  damages  at  all.  The  jury  then  re- 
tired to  their  private  room  to  talk  the  matter  over,  and 
the  judge  retired  to  his  private  room  to  refresh  himself 
with  a  mutton  chop  and  a  glass  of  sherry. 

An  anxious  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed;  the  jury  came 
back;  and  the  judge  was  fetched  in.  Mr.  Pickwick  put 
on  his  spectacles  and  gazed  at  the  foreman  with  an 
agitated  countenance  and  a  quickly  beating  heart. 

Gentlemen,"  said  the  individual  in  black,    are  you 
all  agreed  upon  your  verdict?" 
We  are,"  replied  the  foreman. 

Do  you  find  for  the  plaintiff,  gentlemen,  or  for  the 
defendant?" 

For  the  plaintiff." 
With  \Yhat  damages,  gentlemen?" 
Seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds." 
Mr.  Pickwick  took  off  his  spectacles,  carefully  wiped 


98  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  glasses,  folded  them  into  their  case,  and  put  them  in 
his  pocket;  and  then  having  drawn  on  his  gloves  with 
great  nicety  and  stared  at  the  foreman  all  the  while,  he 
mechanically  followed  Mr.  Perker  and  the  blue  bag  out  of 
court. 

They  stopped  in  a  side  room  while  Perker  paid  the 
court-fees;  and  here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  joined  by  his 
friends.  Here,  too,  he  encountered  Messrs.  Dodson  and 
Fogg,  rubbing  their  hands  with  every  token  of  outward 
satisfaction. 

Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Well,  sir,"  said  Dodson— for  self  and  partner. 

^'You  imagine  you'll  get  your  costs,  don't  you,  gentle- 
men?" said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Fogg  said  they  thought  it  rather  probable.  Dodson 
smiled  and  said  they'd  try. 

"  You  may  try,  and  try,  and  try  again,  Messrs.  Dodson 
and  Fogg,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  vehemently,  ''but  not 
one  farthing  of  costs  or  damages  do  you  ever  get  from 
me,  if  I  spend  the  rest  of  my  existence  in  a  debtor's 
prison." 

"  Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Dodson.  ''You'll  think  better  of 
that  before  next  term,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  He,  he,  he!  we'll  soon  see  about  that,  Mr.  Pickwick," 
grinned  Fogg. 

Speechless  with  indignation,  Mr.  Pickwick  allowed 
himself  to  be  led  by  his  solicitor  and  friends  to  the  door, 
and  there  assisted  into  a  hackney-coach,  which  had  been 
fetched  for  the  purpose  by  the  ever-watchful  Sam 
Weller. 

Sam  had  put  up  the  steps,  and  was  preparing  to  jump 
upon  the  box,  when  he  felt  himself  gently  touched  on  the 
shoulder;  and,  looking  round,  his  father  stood  before 
him.  The  old  gentleman's  countenance  wore  a  mourn- 
ful expression,  as  he  shook  his  head  gravely  and  said,  in 
warning  accents: 

"  I  know'd  what  'ud  come  o'  this  here  mode  o'  doin' 
business.  Oh,  Sammy,  Sammy,  vy  worn't  there  a 
alleybi!" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


99 


CHAPTER  VIL 

IN  WHICH  MK.  PICKWICK  THINKS  HE  HAD  BETTER  GO  TO 
BATH;  AND  GOES  •ACCORDINGLY. 

"'But  surely,  my  dear  sir/'  said  little  Perker,  as  he 
stood  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  apartments  on  the  morning 
after  the  trial,  surely  you  don't  really  mean — really 
and  seriously,  now,  and  irritation  apart — that  you  won't 
pay  these  costs  and  damages?" 

''Not  one  halfpenny,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly;  "not 
one  halfpenny." 

"  Hooroar  for  the  principle,  as  the  money-lender  said 
veil  he  vouldn't  renew  the  bill,"  observed  Mr.  Weller, 
who  was  clearing  away  the  breakfast  things." 

"Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "have  the  goodness  to  step 
down  stairs." 

"Cert'nly,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  and,  acting  on 
Mr.  Pickwick's  gentle  hint,  Sam  retired. 

"  No,  Perker,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  serious- 
ness of  manner,  "  my  friends  here  have  endeavoured  to 
dissuade  me  from  this  determination,  but  without  avail. 
I  shall  employ  myself  as  usual,  until  the  opposite  party 
have  the  power  of  issuing  a  legal  process  of  execution 
against  me;  and  if  they  are  vile  enough  to  avail  them- 
selves of  it  and  to  arrest  my  person,  I  shall  yield  myself 
up  with  perfect  cheerfulness  and  content  of  heart.  When 
can  they  do  this?" 

"  They  can  issue  execution,  my  dear  sir,  for  the 
arnount  of  the  damages  and  taxed 'costs,  next  term,"  re- 
plied Perker;  "just  two  months  hence,  my  dear  sir." 

"Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Until  that  time, 
my  dear  fellow,  let  me  hear  no  more  of  the  matter.  And 
now,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  on  his 
friends  with  a  good-humoured  smile,  and  a  sparkle  in  the 
eye  which  no  spectacles  could  dim  or  conceal,  "  the  only 
question  is,  where  shall  we  go  next?" 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  were  too  much 
affected  by  their  friend's  heroism  to  offer  any  reply.  Mr. 
Winkle  had  not  yet  sufficiently  recovered  the  recoUec- 


100  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


tion  of  his  evidence  at  the  trial  to  make  any  observation 
on  any  subject,  so  Mr.  Pickwick  paused  in  vain. 

''Well,"  said  that  gentleman,  ''if  you  leave  me  to 
suggest  our  destination,  I  say  Bath.  I  think  none  of  us 
have  ever  been  there." 

Nobody  had;  and  as  the  proposition  was  warmly 
seconded  by  Perker,  who  j3onsidered  it  extremely  prob- 
able that  if  Mr.  Pickwick  saw  a  little  change  and  gaiety 
he  would  be  inclined  to  think  better  of  his  determina- 
tion, and  worse  of  a  debtor's  prison,  it  was  carried 
unanimously:  and  Sam  was  at  once  despatched  to  the 
White  Horse  Cellar,  to  take  five  places  by  the  half -past 
seven  o'clock  coach,  next  morning. 

There  were  just  two  places  to  be  had  inside,  and  just 
three  to  be  had  out;  so  Sam  Weller  booked  for  them  all, 
and  halving  exchanged  a  few  compliments  with  the 
booking-office  clerk  on«the  subject  of  a  pewter  half-crown 
which  was  tendered  him  as  a  portion  of  his  "change," 
walked  back  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  where  he  was 
pretty  busily  employed  until  bed-time  in  reducing 
clothes  and  linen  into  the  smallest  possible  compass,  and 
exerting  his  mechanical  genius  in  constructing  a  variety 
of  ingenious  devices  for  keeping  the  lids  on  boxes  which 
had  neither  locks  nor  hinges. 

The  next  was  a  very  unpropitious  morning  for  a 
journey — muggy,  damp,  and  drizzly.  The  horses  in  the 
stages  that  were  going  out,  and  had  come  through  the 
city,  were  smoking  so  that  the  outside  passengers  were 
invisible.  The  newspaper-sellers  looked  moist,  and 
smelt  mouldy;  the  wet  ran  off  the  hats  of  the  orange 
venders  as  they  thrust  their  heads  into  the  coach- 
windows,  and  diluted  the  insides  in  a  refreshing 
manner.  The  Jews -with  the  fifty-bladed  penknives 
shut  them  up  in  despair;  the  men  with  the  pocket-books 
made  pocket-books  of  them;  watch-guards  and  toasting- 
forks  were  alike  at  a  discount,  and  pencil-cases  and 
sponge  were  a  drug  in  the  market. 

Leaving  Sam  Weller  to  rescue  the  luggage  from  the 
seven  or  eight  porters  who  flung  themselves  savagely 
upon  it,  the  moment  the  coach  stopped,  and  finding  that 
they  were  about  twenty  minutes  too  early,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  his  friends  went  for  shelter  into  the  travelle'rs' 
room — the  last  resource  of  human  dejection. 

The  travellers'  room  at  the  White  Horse  Cellar  is  of 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


101 


course  uncomfortable;  it  would  be  no  travellers'  room 
if  it  were  not.  It  is  the  right-hand  parlour,  into  which 
an  aspiring  kitchen  fire-place  appears  to  have  walked, 
accompanied  by  a  rebellious  poker,  tongs,  and  shovel. 
It  is  divided  into  boxes  for  the  solitary  confinentent  of 
travellers,  and  is  furnished  with  a  clock,  a  looking- 
glass,  and  a  live  waiter:  which  latter  article  is  kept  in  a 
small  kennel  for  washing  glasses  in  a  corner  of  the 
apartment. 

One  of  these  boxes  was  occupied  on  this  particular 
occasion  by  a  stern-eyed  man  of  about  five-and-f orty, 
who  had  a  bald  and  glossy  forehead,  with  a  good  deal 
of  black  hair  at  the  sides  and  back  of  his  head,  and 
large  black  whiskers.  He  was  buttoned  up  to  the  chin 
in  a  brown  coat,  and  had  a  large  sealskin  travelling  cap 
and  a  great-coat  and  cloak  lying  on  the  seat  beside  him. 
He  looked  up  from  his  breakfast  as  Mr.  Pickwick  en- 
tered with  a  fierce  and  peremptory  air,  which  was  very 
dignified,  and,  having  scrutinized  that  gentleman  and 
his  companions  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  hummed  a 
tune  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to  say  that  he  rather 
suspected  somebody  wanted  to  take  advantage  of  him, 
but  it  wouldn't  do. 

"  Waiter,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  whiskers. 

Sir  !  "  replied  a  man  with  a  dirty  complexion,  and  a 
towel  of  the  same,  emerging  from  the  kennel  before 
mentioned. 

"  Some  more  toast." 
Yes,  sir." 

Buttered  toast,  mind,"  said  the  gentleman,  fiercely. 

"  D'rectly,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

The  gentleman  with  the  whiskers  hummed  a  tune  in 
the  same  manner  as  before,  and  pending  the  arrival  of 
the  toast  advanced  to  the  front  of  the  fire,  and,  taking 
his  coat  tails  under  his  arms,  looked  at  his  boots  and 
ruminated. 

I  wonder  whereabouts  in  Bath  this  coacli  puts  up," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  mildly  addressing  Mr.  Winkle. 
"  Hum — eh — what's  that  ?"  said  the  strange  man. 
I  made  an  observation  to  my  friend,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.'  Pickwick,  always  ready  to  enter  into  conversation. 

I  wondered  at  what  house  the  Bath  coach  put  up.  Per- 
haps you  can  inform  me." 

Are  you  going  to  Bath  ?"  said  the  strange  man. 


103  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

'^I  am,  sir/'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  those  other  gentlemen  ?" 

^^They  are  going  also/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  inside — I'll  be  damned  if  you're  going  inside/' 
said  the  strange  man. 

Not  all  of  us/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

' '  No,  not  all  of  you, "  said  the  strange  man,  emphatic- 
ally. 'Tve  taken  two  places.  If  they  try  to  squeeze 
six  people  into  an  infernal  box  that  only  holds  four,  I'll 
take  a  post-chaise  and  bring  an  action.  I've  paid  my 
fare.  It  won't  do;  I  told  the  clerk  when  I  took  my 
places  that  it  wouldn't  do.  I  know  these  things  have 
been  done.  I  know  they  are  done  every  day ;  but  I 
never  was  done,  and  I  never  will  be.  Those  who  know 
me  best  best  know  it;  crush  me!"  Here  the  fierce  gen- 
tleman rang  the  bell  with  great  violence,  and  told  the 
waiter  he'd  better  bring  the  toast  in  five  seconds,  or  he'd 
know  the  reason  why. 

My  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  jou  will  allow 
me  to  observe  that  this  is  a  very  unnecessary  display  of 
excitement.    I  have  only  taken  places  inside  for  two." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  fierce  man.  "  I  with- 
draw my  expressions.  I  tender  an  apology.  There's 
my  card.    Give  me  your  acquaintance." 

'^With  great  pleasure,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

We  are  to  be  fellow-travellers,  and  I  hope  we  shall  find 
each  other's  society  mutually  agreeable." 

I  hope  we  shall,"  said  the  fierce  gentleman.  "  I  know 
we  shall.  I  like  your  looks  ;  they  please  me.  Gentle- 
men, your  hands  and  names.    Know  me." 

Of  course  an  interchange  of  friendly  salutations  fol- 
lowed this  gracious  speech,  and  the  fierce  gentleman 
immediately  proceeded  to  inform  the  friends,  in  the  same 
short,  abrupt,  jerky  sentences, that  his  name  was  Dowler; 
that  he  was  going  to  Bath  on  pleasure;  that  he  was 
formerly  in  the  navy  ;  that  he  had  now  set  up  in  busi- 
ness as  a  gentleman;  that  he  lived  upon  the  profits;  and 
that  the  individual  for  whom  the  second  place  was  taken 
was  a  personage  no  less  illustrious  than  Mrs.  Dowler, 
his  lady  wife. 

She's  a  fine  woman,"  said  Mr.  Dowler.  I  am  proud 
of  her.    I  have  reason." 

I  hope  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  ;judging,"  said  Mr, 
Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  103 

**Tou  shall/'  replied  Dowler.  She  shall  know  you. 
She  shall  esteem  you.  I  courted  her  under  singular  cir- 
cumstances. I  won  her  through  a  rash  vow.  Thus:  I 
saw  her ;  I  loved  her ;  I  proposed  ;  she  refused  me. 
'You  love  another?' — 'Spare  my  blushes.' — 'I  know 
him.' — 'You  do.' — 'Very  good;  if  he  remains  here  I'll 
skin  him.^'^ 

"Lord  bless  me!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  involun- 
tarily. 

"Did  you  skin  the  gentleman,  sir?"  inquired  Mr. 
Winkle,  with  a  very  pale  face. 

"  I  wrote  him  a  note.  I  said  it  was  a  painful  thing. 
And  so  it  was." 

"  Certainly,"  interposed  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I  said  I  had  pledged  my  word  as  a  gentleman  to  skin 
him.  My  character  was  at  stake.  I  had  no  alternative. 
As  an  officer  in  his  Majesty's  service,  I  was  bound  to 
skin  him.  I  regretted  the  necessity,  but  it  must  be  done. 
He  was  open  to  conviction.  He  saw  that  the  rules  of 
the  service  were  imperative.  He  fled.  I  married  her. 
Here's  the  coach.    That's  her  head.'^ 

As  Mr.  Dowler  concluded,  he  pointed  to  a  stage  which 
had  just  driven  up:  from  the  open  window  of  which  a 
rather  pretty  face  in  a  bright  blue  bonnet  was  looking 
among  the  crowd  on  the  pavement:  most  probably  for 
the  rash  man  himself.  Mr.  Dowler  paid  his  bill  and 
hurried  out  with  his  travelling-cap,  coat,  and  cloak;  and 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  followed  to  secure  their 
places. 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  seated  themselves 
at  the  back  part  of  the  coach;  Mr.  Winkle  had  got  in- 
side; and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  preparing  to  follow  him, 
when  Sam  Weller  came  up  to  his  master,  and  whisper- 
ing in  his  ear,  begged  to  speak  to  him,  with  an  air  of 
the  deepest  mystery. 

"Well,  Sam/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "what's  the  matter 
now?" 

"Here's  rayther  a  rum  go,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"What?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

",This  here,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam.  "I'm  very  much 
afeerd,  sir,  that  the  properiator  o'  this  here  coach  is  a 
playin'  some  imperence  vith  us." 

"How  is  that,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "aren't  the 
names  down  on  the  way-bill? " 


104  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^^The  names  is  not  only  down  on  the  vay-bill,  sir," 
replied  Sam,  ''but  they've  painted  vun  on  'em  up  on  the 
door  o'  the  coach."  As  Sam  spoke,  he  pointed  to  that 
part  of  the  coach-door  on  which  the  proprietor's  name 
usually  appears;  and  there,  sure  enough,  in  gilt  letters 
of  a  goodly  size,  was  the  magic  name  of  Pickwick! 

''Dear  me,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  staggered 
by  the  coincidence;  "  what  a  very  extraordinary  thing! " 

"Yes,  but  that  ain't  all,"  said  Sam,  again  directing 
his  master's  attention  to  the  coach-door;  "not  content 
vith  writin'  up  Pickwick,  they  puts  'Moses'  afore  it, 
vich  I  call  addin'  insult  to  injury,  as  the  parrot  said  ven 
they  not  only  took  him  from  his  native  land,  but  made 
him  talk  the  English  langwidge  arterwards." 

"  It's  odd  enough  certainly,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick; 
^'but  if  we  stand  talking  here,  we  shall  lose  our  places." 

"Wot,  ain't  nothin'  to  be  done  in  consequence,  sir?" 
exclaimed  Sam,  perfectly  aghast  at  the  coolness  with 
which  Mr.  Pickwick  prepared  to  ensconce  himself  inside. 

"  Done! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  What  should  be  done?" 

"  Ain't  nobody  to  be  whopped  for  takin'  this  here  lib- 
erty, sir?"  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  expected  that  at 
least  he  would  have  been  commissioned  to  challenge  the 
guard  and  coachman  to  a  pugilistic  encounter  on  the 
spot. 

" Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr,  Pickwick  eagerly;  "not 
on  any  account.    Jump  up  to  your  seat  directly." 

"  I'm  worry  much  afeerd,"  muttered  Sam  to  himself, 
as  he  turned  away,  "that  somethin'  queer's  come  over 
the  governor,  or  he'd  never  ha'  stood  this  so  quiet.  I 
hope  that  'ere  trial  hasn't  broke  his  spirit,  but  it  looks 
bad;  worry  bad."  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head  gravely; 
and  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  as  an  illustration  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  took  this  circumstance  to  heart, 
that  he  did  not  speak  another  word  until  the  coach 
reached  the  Kensington  turnpike:  whi^  was  so  long  a 
time  for  him  to  remain  taciturn  that  the  fact  may  be 
considered  wholly  unprecedented. 

Nothing  worthy  of  special  mention  occurred  during 
the  journey.  Mr.  Dowler  related  a  variety  of  anecdotes, 
all  illustrative  of  his  own  personal  prowess  and  des{)era- 
tion,  and  appealed  to  Mrs.  Dowler  in  corroboration 
thereof:  when  Mrs.  Dowler  invariably* brought  in,  in 
the  form  of  an  appendix,  some  remarkable  fact  or  cir- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


105 


cumstance  which  Mr.  Dowler  had  forgotten,  or  had 
perhaps  through  modesty  omitted:  for  the  addenda  in 
every  instance  went  to  show  that  Mr.  Dowler  was  even 
a  more  wonderful  fellow  than  he  made  himself  out  to 
be.  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Winkle  listened  with  great 
admiration,  and  at  intervals  conversed  with  Mrs.  Dowler, 
who  was  a  very  agreeable  and  fascinating  person.  So, 
what  between  Mr.  Dowler's  stories,  and  Mrs.  Dowler's 
charms,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  good  humour,  and  Mr. 
Winkle's  good  listening,  the  inside  contrived  to  be  very 
companionable  all  the  way. 

The  outsides  did  as  outsides  always  do.  ^  They 
were  very  cheerful  and  talkative  at  the  beginning  of 
every  stage,  and  very  dismal  and  sleepy  in  the  middle^ 
and  very  bright  and  wakeful  again  towards  the  end. 
There  was  one  young  gentleman  in  an  India-rubber 
cloak,  who  smoked  cigars  all  day;  and  there  was 
another  young  gentleman  in  a  parody  upon  a  great-coat, 
who  lighted  a  good  many,  and  feeling  obviously  un- 
settled after  the  second  whiff,  threw  them  away  when 
he  thought  nobody  was  looking  at  him.  There  was  a 
third  young  man  on  the  box  who  wished  to  be  learned 
in  cattle;  and  an  old  one  behind,  who  was  familiar  with 
farming.  There  was  a  constant  succession  of  Christian 
names  in  smock  frocks  and  white  coats,  who  were  in- 
vited to  have  a  '4ift"  by  the  guard,  and  who  knew 
every  horse  and  hostler  on  the  road  and  off  it;  and  there 
was  a  dinner  which  would  have  been  cheap  at  half-a- 
crown  a  mouth,  if  any  moderate  number  of  mouths 
could  have  eaten  it  in  the  time.  And  at  seven  o'clock 
P.M.  Mr  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  and  Mr.  Dowler  and 
his  wife,  respectively  retired  to  their  private  sitting-rooms 
at  the  White  Hart  Hotel,  opposite  the  Great  Pump  Room, 
Bath,  where  the  waiters,  from  their  costume,  might  be 
mistaken  for  Westminster  boys,  only  they  destroy  the 
illusion  by  behaving  themselves  so  much  better. 

Breakfast  had  scarcely  been  cleared  away  on  the  suc- 
ceeding morning,  when  a  waiter  brought  in  Mr.  Dowler's 
card,  with  a  request  to  be  allowed  permission  to  intro- 
duce a  friend.  Mr.  Dowler  at  once  followed  up  the  de- 
livery of  the  card,  by  bringing  himself  and  the  friend 
also. 

The  friend  was  a  charming  young  man  of  not  much 
more  than  fifty,  dressed  in  a  very  bright  blue  coat  with 


106  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

resplendent  buttons,  black  trousers,  and  the  thinnest 
possible  pair  of  highly-polished  boots.  A  gold  eye-glass 
was  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a  short  broad  black  rib- 
bon; a  gold  snuff-box  was  lightly  clasped  in  his  left 
hand;  gold  rings  innumerable  glittered  on  his  fingers; 
and  a  large  diamond  pin  set  in  gold  glistened  in  his 
shirt-frill.  He  had  a  gold  watch,  and  a  gold  curb  chain 
with  large  gold  seals;  and  he  carried  a  pliant  ebony  cane 
with  a  heavy  gold  top.  His  linen  was  of  the  very 
whitest,  finest,  and  stiff  est;  his  wig  of  the  glossiest, 
blackest,  and  curliest.  His  snuff  was  princes'  mixture; 
his  scent  bouquet  du  roi.  His  features  were  contracted 
into  a  perpetual  smile;  and  his  teeth  were  in  such  per- 
fect order  that  it  was  difficult  at  a  small  distance  to  tell 
the  real  ones  from  the  false. 

^'Mr  Pickwick,"  said  Dowler;  ''my  friend,  Angelo 
Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire,  M.  C.  Bantam;  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Know  each  other.'' 

"  Welcome  to  Ba — ath,  sir.  This  is  indeed  an  acquisi- 
tion. Most  welcome  to  Ba — ath,  sir.  It  is  long — very 
long,  Mr.  Pickwick,  since  you  drank  the  waters.  It  ap- 
pears an  age,  Mr.  Pickwick.    Re — markable  ! " 

Such  were  the  expressions  with  which  Angelo  Cyrus 
Bantam,  Esquire,  M.  C,  took  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand;  re- 
taining it  in  his  meantime,  and  shrugging  up  his  shoulders 
with  a  constant  succession  of  bows,  as  if  he  really  could 
not  make  up  his  mind  to  the  trial  of  letting  it  go  again. 

''  It  is  a  very  long  time  since  I  drank  the  waters,  cer- 
tainly," replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  for  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge  I  was  never  here  before." 

''Never  in  Ba — ath  Mr.  Pickwick!"  exclaimed  the 
Grand  Master,  letting  the  hand  fall  in  astonishment. 
"  Never  in  Ba — ath  !  He  !  he  !  Mr.  Pickwick,  you  are  a 
wag.  Not  bad,  not  bad.  Good,  good.  He !  he !  he  ! 
Re — markable  ! " 

"To  my  shame,  I  must  say,  that  I  am  perfectly 
serious,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  I  really  never  was 
here  before." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  exclaimed  the  Grand  Master,  looking  ex- 
tremely pleased.  "Yes,  yes — good,  good — better  and 
better.  You  are  the  gentleman  of  whom  we  have  heard. 
Yes  ;  we  know  you,  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  we  know  you. 

"The  reports  of  the  trial  in  those  confounded  papers,'' 
thought  Mr,  Pickwick.  "  They  have  heard  all  about  me." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


107 


^'You  are  the  gentleman  residing  on  Clapham  Green/' 
resumed  Bantam,  ''who  lost  the  use  of  his  limbs  from 
imprudently  taking  cold  after  port  wine — who  could  not 
be  moved  in  consequence  of  acute  suffering,  and  who 
had  the  water  from  the  King's  Bath  bottled  at  one 
hundred  and  three  degrees,  and  sent  by  wagon  to  his 
bed-room  in  town,  where  he  bathed,  sneezed,  and  same 
day  recovered.    A^ery  remarkable  !  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  acknowledged  the  compliment  which 
the  supposition  implied,  but  had  the  self-denial  to  re- 
pudiate it,  notwithstanding;  and  taking  advantage  of  a 
moment's  silence  on  the  part  of  the  M.  C,  begged  to  in- 
troduce his  friends*  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr,  Winkle,  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass — an  introduction  which  of  course  over- 
whelmed the  M.  C.  with  delight  and  honour. 

'' Bantam,"  said  Mr.  Dowler,  ''Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends  are  strangers.  They  must  put  their  names  down. 
Where's  the  book?" 

"  The  register  of  the  distinguished  visitors  in  Ba — ath 
will  be  at  the  Pump  Room  this  morning  at  two  o'clock," 
replied  the  M.  C.  "Will  you  guide  our  friends  to  that 
splendid  building,  and  enable  me  to  procure  their  auto- 
graphs ?" 

"  I  will,"  rejoined  Dowler.  "  This  is  a  long  call.  It's 
time  to  go;  I  shall  be  here  again  in  an  hour.  Come." 

"This  is  a  ball  night,"  said  the  M.  C,  again  taking 
Mr.  Pickwick's  hand,  as  he  rose  to  go.  "  The  ball  nights 
in  Ba — ath  are  moments  snatched  from  Paradise;  ren- 
dered bewitching  by  music,  beauty,  elegance,  fashion, 
etiquette,  and — and — above  all,  by  the  absence  of  trades- 
people, who  are  quite  inconsistent  with  Paradise,  and  who 
have  an  amalgamation  of  themselves  at  the  Guildhall 
every  fortnight,  which  is,  to  say  the  least,  remarkable. 
Good  bye,  good  bye!"  and  protesting  all  the  way  down 
the  stairs  that  he  was  most  satisfied,  and  most  delighted, 
and  most  overpowered,  and  most  flattered,  Angolo  Cyrus 
Bantam,  Esquire,  M.  C,  stepped  into  a  very  elegant 
chariot  that  waited  at  the  door,  and  rattled  off. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends, 
escorted  by  Dowler,  repaired  to  the  Assembly  Rooms, 
and  wrote  their  names  down  in  the  book — an  instance 
of  condescension  at  which  Angelo  Bantam  was  even 
more  overpowered  than  before.  Tickets  of  admission 
to  that  evening's  assembly  were  to  have  been  prepared 


108 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


for  the  whole  party,  but  as  they  were  not  ready,  Mr. 
Pickwick  undertook,  despite  all  the  protestations  to  the 
contrary  of  Angelo  Bantam,  to  send  Sam  for  them  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  to  the  M.  C.'s  house  in 
Queen  Square.  Having  taken  a  short  walk  through  the 
city,  and  arrived  at  the  unanimous  conclusion  that  Park 
Street  was  very  much  like  the  perpendicular  streets  a 
man  sees  in  a  dream,  which  he  cannot  get  up  for  the 
life  of  him,  they  returned  to  the  White  Hart,  and  de- 
spatched Sam  on  the  errand  to  which  his  master  had 
pledged  him. 

Sam  Weller  put  on  his  hat  in  a  ver^  easy  and  grace- 
ful manner,  and  thrusting  his  hands  in  his  waistcoat 
pockets,  walked  with  great  deliberation  to  Queen  Square, 
whistling  as  he  went  along,  several  of  the  most  popular 
airs  of  the  day,  as  arranged  with  entirely  new  move- 
ments for  that  noble  instrument  the  organ,  either  mouth 
or  barrel.  Arriving  at  the  number  in  Queen  Square  to 
which  he  had  been  directed,  he  left  off  whistling,  and 
gave  a  cheerful  knock,  which  was  instantaneously  an- 
swered by  a  powdered-headed  footman  in  gorgeous 
livery,  and  of  symmetrical  stature. 

^*Is  this  here  Mr.  Bantam's,  old  feller?"  inquired 
Sam  Weller,  nothing  abashed  by  the  blaze  of  splen- 
dour which  burst  upon  his  sight,  in  the  person 
of  the  powdered-headed  footman  with  the  gorgeous 
livery. 

''Why,  young  man?"  was  the  haughty  inquiry  of  the 
powdered-headed  footman. 

'"Cos  if  it  is,  jist  you  step  into  him  with  that  'ere 
card,  and  say  Mr.  Veller's  a  waitin',  will  you?"  said  Sam. 
And  saying  it,  he  very  coolly  walked  into  the  hall  and 
sat  down. 

The  powdered-headed  footman  slammed  the  door  very 
hard,  and  scowled  very  grandly;  but  both  the  slam  and 
the  scowl  were  lost  upon  Sam,  who  was  regarding  a 
mahoghany  umbrella-stand  with  every  outward  token 
of  critical  approval. 

Apparently,  his  master's  reception  of  the  card  had 
impressed  the  powdered-headed  footman  in  Sam's  favour, 
for  when  he  came  back  from  delivering  it,  he  smiled  in 
a  friendly  manner,  and  said  that  the  answer  would  be 
ready  directly. 

"  Worry  good,"  said  Sam.     "  Tell  the  old  gen'l'm'n 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


109 


not  to  put  himself  in  a  persperation.  No  hurry,  six- 
foot.    I've  had  my  dinner." 

"'You  dine  early,  sir,''  said  the  powdered-headed  foot- 
man." 

"  I  find  I  gets  on  better  at  supper  when  I  does,"  re- 
plied Sam. 

'•Have  you  been  long  in  Bath,  sir?"  inquired  the 
powdered-headed  footman.  ^'I  have  not  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  hearing  of  you  before." 

"  I  haven't  created  any  worry  surprisin'  sensation  here, 
as  yet,"  rejoined  Sam,  ''forme  and  the  other  fash'na- 
bles  only  come  last  night." 

''Nice  place,  sir,"  said  the  powdered-headed  footman. 

"  Seems  so,"  observed  Sam. 

"  Pleasant  society,  sir,"  remarked  the  powdered-headed 
footman.    "Very  agreeable  servants,  sir." 

"  I  should  think  thev  wos,"  replied  Sam.  "  Affable, 
unaffected,  say-nothin'-to-nobody  sort  o'  fellers." 

"Oh,  very  much  so,  indeed,  sir,"  said  the  powdered- 
headed  footman,  taking  Sam's  remark  as  a  high  compli- 
ment. "Very  much  so  indeed.  Do  you  do  anything  in 
this  way,  sir?"  inquired  the  tall  footman,  producing  a 
small  snuff-box  with  a  fox's  head  on  the  top  of  it. 

"Not  without  sneezing,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Why,  it  is  difficult,  sir,  I  confess,"  said  the  tall  foot- 
man. "  It  may  be  done  by  degrees,  sir.  Coffee  is  the  best 
practice.  I  carried  coffee,  sir,  for  a  long  time.  It  looks 
very  like  rappee,  sir." 

Here  a  sharp  peal  at  the  bell  reduced  the  powdered- 
headed  footman  to  the  ignominious  necessity  of  putting 
his  fox's  head  in  his  pocket,  and  hastening  with  a 
Immble  countenance  to  Mr.  Bantam's  "study."  By  t.io 
by,  who  ever  knew  a  man  who  never  read  or  wrote 
either,  who  hadn't  got  some  small  back  parlour  wliich 
he  icoidd  call  a  study! 

"There  is  the  answer,  sir,"  said  the  powdered-headed 
footman.  "I  am  afraid  you'll  find  it  inconvenieirtly 
large." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Sam,  taking  a  letter  with  a 
small  enclosure.  '*  It's  just  possible  as  exhausted  natur 
may  manage  to  surwive  it." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  mevt  again,  sir,"  said  the  powdered- 
headed  footman,  ruljbing  his  hands,  and  following  Sam 
'out  to  the  door-step. 


110  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


You  are  werry  obligin',  sir/'  replied  Sam.  Now, 
don't  allow  yourself  to  be  fatigued  beyond  your  powers; 
there's  a  amiable  bein'.  Consider  what  you  owe  to 
society,  and  don't  let  yourself  be  injured  by  too  much 
work.  For  the  sake  o'  your  feller  creeturs,  keep  your- . 
self  as  quiet  as  you  can;  only  think  what  a  loss  you 
would  be!"  With  these  pathetic  words,  Sam  Weller  de- 
parted. 

A  very  singular  young  man  that,"  said  the  powdered- 
headed  footman,  looking  after  Mr.  Weller,  with  a 
countenance  which  clearly  showed  he  could  make  noth- 
ing of  him. 

Sam  said  nothing  at  all.  He  winked,  shook  his  head, 
smiled,  winked  again;  and  with  an  expression  of  coun- 
tenance which  seemed  to  denote  that  he  was  greatly 
amused  vv^ith  something  or  other,  walked  merrily  away. 

At  precisely  twenty  minutes  before  eight  o'clock  that 
night,  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  ^^squire,  the  Master  of  the 
Ceremonies,  emerged  from  his  chariot  at  the  door  of  the 
Assembly  Rooms  in  the  same  wig,  the  same  teeth,  the 
same  eye-glass,  the  same  watch  and  seals,  the  same 
rings,  the  same  shirt-pin,  and  the  same  cane.  The  only 
observable  alterations  in  his  appearance  were  that  he 
wore  a  brighter  blue  coat,  with  a  white  silk  lining,  black 
tights,  black  silk  stockings,  and  pumps,  and  a  white 
waist-coat,  and  was,  if  possible,  just  a  thought  more 
scented. 

Thus  attired,  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  in  strict 
discharge  of  the  important  duties  of  his  all-important 
office,  planted  himself  in  the  rooms  to  receive  the 
company. 

Bath  being  full,  the  company,  and  the  sixpences  for 
tea,  poured  in,  in  shoals.  In  the  ball-room,  the  long  ^ 
card-room,  the  octagonal  card-room,  the  staircases,  and  ' 
the  passages,  the  hum  of  many  voices,  and  the  sound  of 
many  feet,  were  perfectly  bewildering.  Dresses  rustled, 
feathers  waved,  lights  shone,  and  jewels  sparkled. 
There  was  the  music — not  of  the  quadrille  band,  for  it 
had  not  yet  commenced;  but  the  music  of  soft  tiny  foot- 
steps, with  now  and  then  a  clear  merry  laugh — low  and 
gentle,  but  very  pleasant  to  hear  in  a  female  voice, 
whether  in  Bath  or  elsewhere.  Brilliant  eyes,  lighted 
up  with  pleasurable  expectation,  gleamed  from  every 
side;  and  look  where  you  would,  some  exquisite  form 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


Ill 


glided  gracefully  through  the  throng,  and  was  no  sooner 
lost,  than  it  was  replaced  by  another^  as  dainty  and 
bewitching. 

In  the  tea-room,  and  hovering  round  the  card-tables^ 
were  a  vast  number  of  queer  old  ladies  and  decrepit  old 
gentlemen,  discussing  all  the  small  talk  and  scandal  of 
the  day,  with  an  evident  relish  and  gusto  which  suf-^ 
ficiently  bespoke  the  intensity  of  the  pleasure  they 
derived  from  the  occupation.  Mingled  with  those 
groups  were  three  or  four  matchmaking  mammas,  ap- 
pearing to  be  wholly  absorbed  by  the  conversation  in 
which  they  were  taking  part,  but  failing  not,  from  time 
to  time,  to  cast  an  anxious  sidelong  glance  upon  their 
daughters,  who,  remembering  the  maternal  injunction  to 
make  the  best  use  of  their  youth,  had  already  commenced 
incipient  flirtations  in  the  mislaying  of  scarves,  putting 
on  gloves,  setting  down  cups,  and  so  forth;  slight  mat- 
ters apparently,  but  which  may  be  turned  to  surpris- 
ingly good  account  by  expert  practitioners. 

Lounging  near  the  doors,  and  in  remote  corners,  were 
various  knots  of  silly  young  men,  displaying  various 
varieties  of  puppyism  and  stupidity;  amusing  all  sensi- 
ble people  near  them  with  their  folly  and  conceit;  and 
happily  thinking  themselves  the  objects -of  general  ad- 
miration— a  wise  and  merciful  dispensation,  which  no 
good  man  will  quarrel  with. 

And  lastly,  seated  on  some  of  the  back  benches,  where 
they  had  already  taken  up  their  positions  for  the  even- 
ing, were  divers  unmarried  ladies  past  their  grand  cli- 
macteric, who,  not  dancing  because  there  were  no 
partners  for  them,  and  not  playing  cards  lest  they 
should  be  set  down  as  irretrievably  single,  were  in  the 
favourable  situation  of  being  able  to  £u)use  everybody 
without  reflecting  on  themselves.  In  short,  they  could 
abuse  everybody  oecause  everybody  was  there.  It  was 
a  scene  of  gaiety,  glitter,  and  show;  of  richly-dressed 
people,  handsome  mirrors,  chalked  floors,  girandoles, 
and  wax-candles;  and  in  all  parts  of  the  scene,  gliding 
from  spot  to  spot  in  silent  softness:  bowing  obsequi- 
ously to  this  party,  nodding  familiarly  to  that,  and 
smiling  complacently  on  all:  was  the  sprucely  attin^d 
person  of  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire,  the  Master 
of  the  Ceremonies. 

'*Stop  in  the  tea-room.    Take  your  sixpenn'orth, 


112  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


They  lay  on  hot  water,  and  call  it  tea.  Drink  it,"  said 
Mr.  Dowler,  in  a  loud  voice,  directing  Mr.  Pickwick, 
who  advanced  at  the  head  of  the  little  party,  with  Mrs. 
Dowler  on  his  arm.  Into  the  tea-room  Mr.  Pickwick 
turned;  and  catching  sight  of  him,  Mr.  Bantam  cork- 
screwed his  way  through  the  crowd,  and  welcomed  him 
with  ecstacy. 

''My  dear  sir,  I  am  highly  honoured.  Ba — ath  is 
favoured.  Mrs.  Dowler,  you  embellish  the  rooms.  I 
congratulate  you  on  your  feathers.    Re — markable! " 

"  Anybody  here?"  inquired  Dowler,  suspiciously. 

"  Anybody!  The  elite  of  Ba — ath.  Mr.  Pickwick,  do 
you  see  the  lady  in  the  gauze  turban?  " 

''The  fat  old  lady?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  inno- 
cently. 

"  Hush,  my  dear  sir — nobody's  fat  or  old  in  Ba — ath. 
That's  the  Dowager  Lady  Snuphanuph." 

"  Is  it  indeed?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"ISTo  less  a  person,  I  assure  you,"  said  the  Master  of 
the  Ceremonies.  "  Hush.  Draw  a  little  nearer,  Mr. 
Pickv/ick.  You  see  the  splendidly  dressed  young  man 
coming  this  way?" 

"The  one  with  the 'long  hair,  and  the  particularly 
small  forehead?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  The  same.  The  richest  young  man  in  Ba — ath  at 
this  moment.    Young  Lord  Mutanhed." 

"  You  don't  say  so?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes.  You'll  hear  his  voice  in  a  moment,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. He'll  speak  to  me.  The  other  gentleman  with 
him,  in  the  red  under-waistcoat  and  dark  moustache,  is 
the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  his  bosom  friend.  How 
do  you  do,  my  lord?" 

"  Veway  hot,  Bptntam,"  said  his  lordship. 

"  It  is  very  warm,  my  lord,"  replied  the  M.  C. 

"Confounded,"  assented  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crush- 
ton. 

"  Have  you  seen  his  lordship's  mail  cart,  Bantam?" 
inquired  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  after  a  short 
pause,  during  which  young  Lord  Mutanhed  had  been 
endeavouring  to  stare  Mr.  Pickwick  out  of  countenance, 
and  Mr.  Crushton  had  been  reflecting  what  subject  his 
lordship  could  talk  about  best. 

"Dear  me,  no,"  replied  the  M.  C.  "A  mail  cart! 
What  an  excellent  idea.    Re — markable! " 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


113 


Gwacious  heavens!"  said  his  lordship,  I  thought 
evewebody  had  seen  the  new  mail  cart;  it^s  the  neatest, 
pwettiest,  g wacef  ullest  thing  that  ever  wan  upon  wheels 
— painted  wed,  with  a  c weam  piebald. " 

''With  a  real  box  for  the  letters,  and  all  complete," 
said  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton. 

''  And  a  little  seat  in  fwont,  with  an  iwon  wail,  for 
tlie  dwiver,"  added  his  lordship.  "I  dwove  it  over  to 
Bwistol  the  other  morning,  in  a  cwimson  coat,  with  two 
servants  widing  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind;  and  con- 
io md  me  if  the  people  didn't  wush  out  of  their  cottages, 
and  awest  my  pwogwess,  to  know  if  I  wasn't  the  post. 
CUorwious,  glorwious!" 

At  this  anecdote  his  lordship  laughed  very  heartily, 
as  di^  the  listeners,  of  course.  Then,  drawing  his  arm 
through  that  of  the  obsequious  Mr.  Crushton,  Lord 
Mutanhed  walked  away. 

''  Delightful  young  man,  his  lordship,"  said  the  Master 
of  the  Ceremonies. 

•"So  I  should  think,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  drily. 

The  dancing  having  commenced,  the  necessary  intro- 
ductions having  been  made,  and  all  preliminaries 
arranged,  Angelo  Bantam  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
led  him  into  the  card-room. 

Just  at  the  very  moment  of  their  entrance,  the 
Dowager  Lady  Snuphanuph,  and  two  other  ladies  of  an 
ancient  and  v/hist-like  appearance,  were  hovering  over 
an  unoccupied  card-table;  and  they  no  sooner  set  eyes 
upon  Mr.  Pickwick  under  the  convoy  of  Angelo  Bantam, 
than  they  exchanged  glances  with  each  other,  seeing 
that  he  was  precisely  the  very  person  they  wanted,  to 
make  up  the  rubber. 

''  My  dear  Bantam,"  said  the  Dowager  Lady  Snupha- 
nuph, coaxingly,  "find  us  some  nice  creature  to  make 
up  this  table;  there's  a  good  soul."  Mr.  Pickwick  hap- 
pened to  be  looking  another  way  at  the  moment,  so  her 
ladyship  nodded  her  head  towards  him,  and  frowned  ex- 
pressively. 

' '  My  friend  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  lady, will  be  most  happy, 
I  am  sure,  re— markably  so,"  said  the  M.  C,  taking  the 
hint.  Mr.  Pickwick,  Lady  Snuphanuph — Mrs.  Colonel 
Wugsby— Miss  Bolo." 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  to  each  of  the  ladies,  and,  finding 
escape  impossil)lo,  cut.    Mr.  Pickwick  and  Miss  Bolo 


114  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


against  Lady  Snuphanuph  and  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby. 

As  the  trump  card  was  turned  up  at  the  commence- 
ment  of  the  second  deal,  two  young  ladies  hurried  into 
Jie  room,  and  took  their  stations  on  either  side  of  Mrs. 
Colonel  Wugsby's  chair,  where  they  waited  patiently 
until  the  hand  was  over. 

^'ISrow,  Jane,"  said  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby,  turning  to 
one  of  the  girls,    what  is  it?" 

"  I  came  to  ask,  ma,  whether  I  might  dance  with  the 
youngest  Mr.  Crawley,"  whispered  the  prettier  and 
younger  of  the  two. 

"  Good  God,  Jane,  how  can  you  think  of  such  things!" 
replied  the  mamma,  indignantly.  "  Haven't  you  repeat- 
edly heard  that  his  father  has  eight  hundred  a-year, 
which  dies  with  him?  I  am  ashamed  of  you.  Not  on  any 
account." 

^^Ma,"  whispered  the  other,  who  was  much  older  than 
her  sister,  and  very  insipid  and  artificial,  '^Lord  Mutan- 
hed  has  been  introduced  to  me.  I  said  I  thought  I  wasn't 
engaged,  ma." 

''You're  a  sweet  pet,  my  love,"  replied  Mrs.  Colonel 
Wugsby,  tapping  her  daughter's  cheek  with  her  fan, 
''and  are  always  to  be  trusted.  He's  immensely  rich, 
my  dear.  Bless  you!"  With  these  words  Mrs.  Colonel 
Wugsby  kissed  her  eldest  daughter  most  affectionately, 
and  frowning  in  a  warning  manner  upon  the  other, 
sorted  her  cards. 

Poor  Mr.  Pickwick!  he  had  never  played  with  three 
thorough-paced  female  card-players  before.  They  were 
so  desperately  sharp,  that  they  quite  frightened  him. 
It  he  played  a  wrong  card  Miss  Bolo  looked  a 
small  armory  of  daggers;  if  he  stopped  to  consider 
which  was  the  right  one.  Lady  Snupanuph  would  throw 
herself  back  in  her  chair,  and  smile  with  a  mingled 
glance  of  impatience  and  pity  to  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby: 
at  which  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby  w^ould  shrug  up  her 
shoulders,  and  cough,  as  much  as  to  say  she  wondered 
whether  he  ever  would  begin.  Then,  at  the  end  of 
every  hand.  Miss  Bolo  would  inquire,  with  a  dismal 
countenance  and  reproachful  sigh,  why  Mr.  Pickwick 
had  not  returned  that  diamond,  or  led  the  club,  or 
roughed  the  spade,  or  finessed  the  heart,  or  led  through 
the  honour,  or  brought  out  the  ace,  or  played  up  to  the 
king,  or  some  such  thing;  and  in  reply  to  all  these  grave 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


115 


charges  Mr.  Pickwick  would  be  wholly  unable  to  plead 
any  justification  whatever;  having  by  this  time  forgotten 
all  about  the  game.  People  came  and  looked  on,  too, 
which  made  Mr.  Pickwick  nervous.  Besides  all  this, 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  distracting  conversation  near 
the  table,  between  Angelo  Bantam  and  the  two  Miss  Mat- 
inters,  who,  being  single  and  singular,  paid  great  court 
to  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  in  the  hope  of  getting 
a  stray  partner  now  and  then.  All  these  things,  com- 
bined with  the  noises  and  interruptions  of  constant 
comings  in  and  goings  out,  made  Mr.  Pickwick  play 
rather  badly;  the  cards  were  against  him,  also;  and 
•when  they  left  off  at  ten  minutes  past  eleven,  Miss  Bolo 
rose  from  the  table  considerably  agitated  and  went 
straight  home,  in  a  flood  of  tears,  and  a  sedan  chair. 

Being  joined  by  his  friends,  who  one  and  all  protested 
that  they  had  scarcely  ever  spent  a  more  pleasant  even- 
ing, Mr.  Pickwick  accompanied  them  to  the  V^hite  Hart, 
and  having  soothed  his  feelings  with  something  hot, 
went  to  bed,  and  to  sleep,  almost  simultaneousl3^ 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

THE  CHIEF  FEATURES  OF  WHICH  WILL  BE  FOUND  TO  BE  AN 
AUTHENTIC  VERSION  OF  THE  LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  BLADUD, 
AND  A  MOST  EXTRAORDINARY  CALAMITY  THAT  BEFEL  MR. 
WINKLE. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  contemplated  a  stay  of  at  least  two 
months  in  Bath,  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  take  private 
lodgings  for  himself  and  friends  for  that  period;  and 
as  a  favourable  opportunity  offered  for  their  secur- 
ing, on  moderate  terms,  the  upper  portion  of  a  house  iu 
the  Royal  Crescent,  which  was  larger  than  they  required, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dowler  offered  to  relieve  them  of  a  bed- 
room and  sitting-room.  This  proposition  was  at  once 
accepted,  and  in  three  days'  time  they  were  all  located 
in  their  new  abode,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  began  to  drink 
the  waters  with  the  utmost  assiduitv.  Mr.  Pickwick 
took  them  systematically.  He  drank  a  quarter  of  a 
pint  before  breakfast,  and  then  walked  up  a  hill;  and 


116  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


another  quarter  of  a  pint  after  breakfast,  and  then 
walked  down  a  hill;  and  after  every  fresh  quarter  of  a 
pint,  Mr.  Pickwick  declared,  in  the  most  solemn  and 
emphatic  terms,  tha.t  he  felt  a  great  deal  better;  whereat 
his  friends  were  very  much  delighted,  though  they  had 
not  been  previously  aware  that  there  was  anything  the 
]  matter  with  him. 

i  The  great  pump-room  is  a  spacious  saloon,  ornamented 
with  Corinthian  pillars,  and  a  music  gallery,  and  a 
Tompion  clock,  and  a  statue  of  Nash,  and  a  golden 
inscription,  to  which  all  the  water-drinkers  should 
attend,  for  it  appeals  to  them  in  the  cause  of  a  deserving 
charity.  There  is  a  large  bar  with  a  marble  vase,  out 
of  which  the  pumper  gets  the  water;  and  there  are  a 
number  of  yellow-looking  tumblers,  out  of  which  the 
company  get  it;  and  it  is  a  most  edifying  and  satisfactory 
sight  to  behold  the  perseverance  and  gravity,  with  which 
they  swallow  it.  There  are  baths  near  at  hand,  in  which 
a  part  of  the  company  wash  themselves;  and  a  band 
plays  afterwards,  to  congratulate  the  remainder  on  their 
having  done  so.  There  is  another  pump-room,  into 
which  infirm  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  wheeled,  in  such 
an  astonishing  variety  of  chairs  and  chaises,  that  any 
adventurous  individual  who  goes  in  with  the  regular 
number  of  toes,  is  in  imminent  danger  of  coming  out 
without  them;  and  there  is  a  third,  into  which' the  quiet 
people  go,  for  it  is  less  noisy  than  either.  There  is  an 
immensity  of  promenading,  on  crutches  and  off:  with 
sticks  and  without:  and  a  great  deal  of  conversation, 
and  liveliness,  and  pleasantry. 

Every  morning,  the  regular  water-drinkers,  Mr.  Pick- 
i  wick  among  the  number,  met  each  other  in  the  pump- 
1  room,  took  their  quarter  of  a  pint,  and  walked  constitu- 
*  tionally.  At  the  afternoon's  promenade,  Lord  Mutanhed, 
and  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  the  Dowager  Lady 
Snuphanuph,  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby,  and  all  the  great 
people,  and  all  the  morning  water-drinkers,  met  in 
grand  assemblage.    After  this,  they  walked  out,  or 
drove  out,  or  were  pushed  out  in  bath  chairs,  and  met 
one  another  again.    After  this,  the  gentlemen  went  to 
the  reading-rooms  and  met  divisions  of  the  mass.  After 
this,  they  went  home.    If  it  were  theatre  night,  perhaps 
they  met  at  the  theatre;  if  it  were  assembly  night,  they 
met  at  the  rooms;  and  if  it  were  neither,  they  met  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


117 


next  day — a  very  pleasant  routine,  with  perhaps  a  slight 
tinge  of  sameness. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sitting  up  by  himself,  after  a  day 
spent  in  this  manner,  making  entries  in  his  journal:  his 
friends  having  retired  to  bed:  when  he  was  roused  by  a 
gentle  tap  at  the  room  door. 

Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Craddock,  th^  land=' 
lady,  peeping  in;  ^'but  did  you  want  anything  more^ 
sir?" 

"  Nothing  more,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^'My  young  girl  is  gone  to  bed,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Crad- 
dock, "  and  Mr.  Dowler  is  good  enough  to  say  that  he'll 
sit  up  for  Mrs.  Dowler,  as  the  party  isn't  expected  to  be 
over  till  late;  so  I  was  thinking  that  if  you  wanted  noth- 
ing more,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  would  go  to  bed." 

"  By  all  means,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick* 

''Wish  you  good  night,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Craddock. 

"  Good  night,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mrs.  Craddock  closed  the  door,  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
resumed  his  writing. 

In  half  an  hour's  time  the  entries  were  concluded* 
Mr.  Pickwick  carefully  rubbed  the  last  page  on  the  blot- 
ting paper,  shut  up  the  book,  wiped  his  pen  on  the 
bottom  of  the  inside  of  his  coat  tail,  and  opened  the 
drawer  of  the  inkstand  to  put  it  carefully  away.  There 
were  a  couple  of  sheets  of  writing  paper,  pretty  closely 
written  over,  in  the  inkstand  drawer,  and  they  were 
folded  so  that  the  title,  which  was  in  a  good  round 
hand,  was  fully  disclosed  to  him.  Seeing  from  this  that 
it  was  no  private  document:  and  as  it  seemed  to  relate 
to  Bath,  and  was  very  short:  Mr.  Pickwick  unfolded 
it,  lighted  his  bed-room  candle  that  it  might  burn  up 
well  by  the  time  he  finished;  and  drawing  his  chair 
nearer  the  fire,  read  as  follows: 

THE  TRUE  LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  BLADUD. 

"  Less  than  two  hundred  years  agone,  on  one  of  the 
public  baths  in  this  city,  there  appeared  an  inscription 
in  honour  of  its  mighty  founder,  the  renowned  Prince 
Bladud.    That  inscription  is  now  erased. 

"  For  many  hundred  years  before  that  time,  there  had 
been  handed  down,  from  age  to  a.^"e,  an  old  legend,  that 
the  illustrious  Prince  being  afflicted  with  leprosy,  on  his 


118  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

return  from  reaping  a  rich  harvest  of  knowledge  in 
ancient  Athens,  shunned  the  court  of  his  royal  father, 
and  consorted  moodily  with  husbandmen  and  pigs. 
Among  the  herd  (so  said  the  legend)  was  a  pig  of  grave 
and  solemn  countenance,  with  whom  the  prince  had  a 
fellow  feeling — for  he  too  was  wise — a  pig  of  thoughtful 
and  reserved  demeanour ;  an  animal  superior  to  his 
fellows,  whose  grunt  was  terrible,  and  whose  bite  was 
sharp.  The  young  Prince  sighed  deeply  as  he  looked 
upon  the  countenance  of  the  majestic  swine;  he  thought 
of  his  royal  father,  and  his  eyes  were  bedewed  with  tears. 

This  sagacious  pig  was  fond  of  bathing  in  the  rich 
moist  mud.  Not  in  summer,  as  common  pigs  do,  now, 
to  cool  themselves,  and  did  even  in  those  distant  ages 
(which  is  a  proof  that  the  light  of  civilization  had  already 
begun  to  dawn,  though  feebly),  but  in  the  cold,  sharp 
days  of  w^inter.  His  coat  was  ever  so  sleek,  and  his 
complexion  so  clear,  that  the  Prince  resolved  to  essay 
the  purifying  qualities  of  the  same  water  that  his  friend 
resorted  to.  He  made  the  trial.  Beneath  that  black 
mud  bubbled  the  hot  springs  of  Bath.  He  washed,  and 
was  cured.  Hastening  to  his  father's  court,  he  paid  his 
best  respects,  and  returning  quickly  hither,  founded 
this  city  and  its  famous  baths. 

"  He  sought  the  pig  with  all  the  ardour  of  their  early 
friendship — but  alas  !  the  waters  had  been  his  death. 
He  had  imprudently  taken  a  bath  at  too  high  a  temper- 
ature, and  the  natural  philosopher  was  no  more  !  He 
was  succeeded  by  Pliny,  who  also  fell  a  victim  to  his 
thirst  for  knowledge. 

'^This  was  the  legend.  Listen  to  the  true  one. 
A  great  many  centuries  since,  there  flourished,  in 
great  state,  the  famous  and  renowned  Lud  Hudibras, 
King  of  Britain.  He  was  a  mighty  monarch.  The  earth 
shook  when  he  walked:  he  was  so  very  stout.  His  peo- 
ple basked  in  the  light  of  his  countenance  :  it  was  so 
red  and  glowing.  He  was,  indeed,  every  inch  a  king. 
And  there  were  a  good  many  inches  of  him,  too,  for 
although  he  was  not  very  tall,  he  was  a  remarkable  size 
round,  and  the  inches  that  he  wanted  in  height  he  made 
up  in  circumference.  If  any  degenerate  monarch  of 
modern  times  could  be  in  any  way  compared  with  him, 
I  should  say  the  venerable  King  Cole  would  be  that 
illustrious  potentate. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


119 


'^This  good  king  had  a  queen,  who,  eighteen  years 
before,  had  had  a  son,  who  was  called  Bladud.  He  was 
sent  to  a  preparatory  seminary  in  his  father's  dominions 
until  he  was  ten  years  old,  and  was  then  despatched,  in 
charge  of  a  trusty  messenger,  to  a  finishing  school  at 
Athens;  and  as  there  was  no  extra  charge  for  remain- 
ing during  the  holidays,  and  no  notice  required  previous 
to  the  removal  of  a  pupil,  there  he  remained  for  eight 
long  years,  at  the  expiration  of  which  time  the  king, 
his  father,  sent  the  Lord  Chamberlain  over  to  settle  the 
bill  and  bring  him  home:  which  the  Lord  Chamberlain 
doing,  was  received  with  shouts,  and  pensioned  imme- 
diately. 

"  When  King  Lud  saw  the  Prince,  his  son,  and  found 
he  had  grown  up  such  a  fine  young  man,  he  perceived 
at  once  what  a  grand  thing  it  would  be  to  have  him 
married  without  delay,  so  that  his  children  mi^ht  be 
the  means  of  perpetuating  the  glorious  race  ot  Lud, 
down  to  the  very  latest  ages  of  the  world.  With  this 
view,  he  sent  a  special  embassy,  composed  of  great 
noblemen  who  had  nothing  particular  to  do,  and  wanted 
lucrative  employment,  to  a  neighbouring  king,  and  de- 
manded his  fair  daughter  in  marriage  for  his  son;  stating 
at  the  same  time  that  he  was  anxious  to  be  on  the  most 
affectionate  terms  with  his  brother  and  friend,  but  that 
if  they  couldn't  agree  in  arranging  this  marriage,  he 
should  be  under  the  unpleasant  necessity  of  invading 
his  kingdom,  and  putting  his  eyes  out.  To  this  the 
other  king  (who  was  the  weaker  of  the  two)  replied 
that  he  was  very  much  obliged  to  his  friend  and  brother 
for  all  his  goodness  and  magnanimity,  and  that  his 
daughter  was  quite  ready  to  be  married,  whenever 
Prince  Bladud  liked  to  come  and  fetch  her. 

''This  answer  no  sooner  reached  Britain  than  the 
whole  nation  was  transported  with  joy.  Nothing  was 
heard  on  all  sides  but  the  sounds  of  feasting  and  rev- 
elry— except  the  chinking  of  money  as  it  was  paid  in 
by  the  people  to  the  collector  of  the  Royal  Treasures^ 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  happy  ceremony.  It  was 
upon  this  occasion  that  King  Lud,  seated  on  the  top  of 
his  throne  in  full  council,  rose,  in  the  exuberance  of  his 
feelings,  and  commanded  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  to 
order  in  the  richest  wines  and  the  court  minstrels:  an 
act  of  graciousness  which  has  been,  through  the  igno- 


120 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ranee  of  traditionary  historians,  attributed  to  King  Cole, 
in  those  celebrated  lines  in  which  his  Majesty  is  repre- 
sented as 

Calling  for  his  pipe,  and  calling  for  his  pot, 
And  calling  for  his  fiddlers  three. 

Which  is  an  obvious  injustice  to  the  memory  of  King 
Lud,  and  a  dishonest  exaltation  of  the  virtues  of  King 
Cole. 

"  But,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  festivity  and  rejoicing, 
there  was  one  individual  present  who  tasted  not  when 
the  sparkling  wines  were  poured  forth,  and  who  danced 
not  when  the  minstrels  played.  This  was  no  other  than 
Prince  Bladud  himself,  in  honour  of  whose  happiness  a 
whole  people  were  at  that  very  moment  straining  alike 
their  throats  and  purse-strings.  The  truth  was,  that  the 
Prince,  forgetting  the  undoubted  right  of  the  minister 
for  foreign  affairs  to  fall  in  love  on  his  behalf,  had,  con- 
trary to  every  precedent  of  policy  and  diplomacy,  al- 
ready fallen  in  love  on  his  own  account,  and  privately 
contracted  himself  unto  the  fair  daughter  of  a  noble 
Athenian. 

^'Here  w^e  have  a  striking  example  of  one  of  the 
manifold  advantages  of  civilization  and  refinement.  If 
the  Prince  had  lived  in  later  days  he  might  at  once  have 
married  the  object  of  his  father's  choice,  and  then  set 
himself  seriously  to  work  to  relieve  himself  of  the  bur- 
den which  rested  heavily  upon  him.  He  might  have 
endeavoured  to  break  her  heart  by  a  systematic  course 
of  insult  and  neglect;  or,  if  the  spirit  of  her  sex,  and  a 
proud  consciousness  of  her  many  wrongs,  had  upheld 
her  under  this  ill-treatment,  he  might  have  sought  to 
take  her  life,  and  so  get  rid  of  her  effectually.  But 
neither  mode  of  relief  suggested  itself  to  Prince  Bladud; 
so  he  solicited  a  private  audience  and  told  his  father. 

*'It  is  an  old  prerogative  of  kings  to  govern  every- 
thing but  their  passions.  King  Lud  flew  into  a  fright- 
ful rage,  tossed  his  crown  up  to  the  ceiling  and  caught 
it  again — for  in  those  days  kings  kept  their  crowns  on 
their  heads,  and  not  in  the  Tower — stamped  the  ground, 
rapped  his  forehead,  wondered  why  his  own  flesh  and 
blood  rebelled  against  him,  and  finally,  calling  in  his 
guards,  ordered  the  Prince  av^ay  to  instant  confmenient 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


121 


in  a  lofty  turret;  a  course  of  treatment  which  the  kings 
of  old  very  generally  pursued  towards  their  sons  when 
their  matrimonial  inclinations  did  not  happen  to  point 
to  the  same  quarter  as  their  own. 

When  Prince  Bladud  had  been  shut  up  in  the  lofty 
turret  for  the  greater  part  of  a  year,  with  no  better 
prospect  before  his  bodily  eyes  than  a  stone  wall,  or 
before  his  mental  vision  than  prolonged  imprisonment, 
he  naturally  began  to  ruminate  on  a  plan  of  escape, 
which,  after  months  of  preparation,  he  managed  to  ac- 
complish, considerately  leaving  his  dinner  knife  in  the 
heart  of  his  gaoler,  lest  the  poor  fellow  (who  had  a 
family)  should  be  considered  privy  to  his  flight,  and 
punished  accordingly  by  the  infuriated  king. 

The  monarch  was  frantic  at  the  loss  of  his  son.  He 
knew  not  on  whom  to  vent  his  grief  and  wrath,  until 
fortunately  bethinking  himself  of  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain who  had  brought  him  home,  he  struck  off  his  pen- 
sion and  his  head  together. 

''Meanwhile,  the  young  Prince,  effectually  disguised, 
wandered  on  foot  through  his  father's  dominions, 
cheered  and  supported  in  all  his  hardships  by  sweet 
thoughts  of  the  Athenian  maid,  who  was  the  innocent 
cause  of  his  weary  trials.  One  day  he  stopped  to  rest 
in  a  country  village,  and  seeing  that  there  were  gay 
dances  going  forward  on  the  green,  and  gay  faces  pass- 
ing to  and  fro,  ventured  to  inquire  of  a  reveller  who 
stood  near  him  the  reason  for  this  rejoicing. 

'  Know  you  not,  O  stranger,'  was  the  reply,  'of  the 
recent  proclamation  of  our  gracious  King  ?  ' 

"  '  Proclamation!  No.  What  f)roclamation? '  rejoined 
the  Prince — for  he  had  travelled  along  the  bye  and  little- 
frequented  ways,  and  knew  n'othing  of  what  had  passed 
upon  the  public  roads,  such  as  they  were. 

"'Why,'  replied  the  peasant,  'the  foreign  lady  that 
our  Prince  wished  to  wed  is  married  to  a  foreign  noble 
of  her  own  country;  and  the  king  proclaims  the  fact, 
and  a  great  public  festival  besides;  for  now,  of  course, 
Prince  Bladud  will  come  back  and  marry  the  lady  his 
father  chose,  who  they  say  is  as  beautiful  as  the  noon- 
day sun.    Your  health,  sir.    God  save  the  King!' 

"  The  Prince  remained  to  hear  no  more.  He  fled  from 
the  spot  and  plunged  into  the  thickest  recesses  of  a 
neighbouring  wood.    On,  on,  he  wandered,  night  and 


It2  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


day:  beneath  the  blazing  sun,  and  the  cold,  pale  moon: 
through  the  dry  heat  of  noon,  and  the  damp  cold  of 
night:  in  the  grey  light  of  morn,  and  the  red  glare  of 
eve.  So  heedless  was  he  of  time  or  object  that,  being 
bound  for  Athens,  he  wandered  as  far  out  of  his  way  as 
Bath. 

There  was  no  city  where  Bath  stands,  then.  There 
was  no  vestige  of  human  habitation,  or  sign  of  man's 
resort,  to  bear  the  name;  but  there  was  the  same  noble 
country,  the  same  broad  expanse  of  hill  and  dale,  the 
same  beautiful  channel  stealing  on,  far  away:  the  same 
lofty  mountains  which,  like  the  troubles  of  life,  viewed 
at  a  distance,  and  partially  obscured  by  the  bright  mist 
of  its  morning,  lose  their  ruggedness  and  asperity,  and 
seem  all  ease  and  softness.  Moved  by  the  gentle  beauty 
of  the  scene,  the  Prince  sank  upon  the  green  turf  and 
bathed  his  swollen  feet  in  his  tears. 

'  Oh! '  said  the  unhappy  Bladud,  clasping  his  hands, 
and  mournfully  raising  his  eyes  towards  the  sky,  '  would 
that  my  wanderings  might  end  here;  v/ould  that  these 
grateful  tears  with  which  I  now  mourn  hope  misplaced, 
and  love  despised,  might  flow  in  peace  forever!' 

'^The  wish  was  heard.  It  was  in  the  time  of  the 
heathen  deities,  who  used  occasionally  to  take  people  at 
their  words,  with  a  promptness,  in  some  cases,  extremely 
awkward.  The  ground  opened  beneath  the  Prince's 
feet;  he  sunk  into  the  chasm;  and  instantaneously  it 
closed  upon  his  head  for  ever,  save  where  his  hot  tears 
v^elled  up  through  the  earth,  and  where  they  have  con- 
tinued to  gush  forth  ever  since. 

''It  is  observable  that  to  this  day  large  numbers  of 
elderly  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  procuring  partners,  and  almost  as  many 
young  ones  who  are  anxious  to  obtain  them,  repair,  an- 
nually, to  Bath  to  drink  the  waters,  from  which  they 
derive  much  strength  and  comfort.  This  is  most 
complimentary  to  the  virtue  of  Prince  Bladud's  tears, 
and  strongly  corroborative  of  the  veracity  of  this 
legend." 

Mr.  Pickwick  yawned  several  times  when  he  had  ar- 
rived at  the  end  of  this  little  manuscript,  carefully  re- 
folded and  replaced  it  in  the  inkstand  drawer,  and  then, 
with  a  countenance  expressive  of  the  utmost  weariness, 
lighted  his  chamber  candle  and  went  up  stairs  to  bed. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


1S8 


He  stopped  at  Mr.  Dowler's  door,  according  to  custom, 
and  knocked  to  say  good  night. 

''Ah!"  said  Dowler,  ''going  to  bed?  I  wish  I  was. 
Dismal  night.   Windy;  isn't  it?" 

"Very,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Good-night." 

"Good  night." 

Mr.  Pickwick  went  to  his  bed-chamber,  and  Mr.  Dew- 
ier resumed  his  seat  before  the  fire,  in  fulfilment  of  his 
rash  promise  to  sit  up  till  his  wife  came  home. 

There  are  few  things  more  worrying  than  sitting  up 
for  somebody,  especially  if  that  somebody  be  at  a  party. 
You  cannot  help  thinking  how  quickly  the  time  passes 
with  them,  which  drags  so  heavily  with  you;  and  the 
more  you  think  of  this,  the  more  your  hopes  of  their 
speedy  arrival  decline.  Clocks  tick  so  loud,  too,  when 
you  are  sitting  up  alone,  and  you  seem  as  if  you  had  an 
under-garment  of  cobwebs  on.  First,  something  tickles 
.  your  right  knee,  and  then  the  same  sensation  irritates 
your  left.  You  have  no  sooner  changed  your  position, 
than  it  comes  to  you  in  the  arms;  and  when  you  have 
fidgeted  your  limbs  into  all  sorts  of  odd  shapes  you  have 
a  sudden  relapse  in  the  nose,  which  you  rub  as  if  to  rub 
it  off — as  there  is  no  doubt  you  would,  if  you  could. 
Eyes,  too,  are  mere  personal  inconveniences;  and  the 
wick  of  one  candle  gets  an  inch  and  a  half  long  while 
you  are  snuffing  the  other.  These,  and  various  other 
little  annoyances,  render  sitting  up,  for  a  length  of  time 
after  everybody  else  has  gone  to  bed,  anything  but  a 
cheerful  amusement. 

This  was  just  Mr.  Dowlers  opinion,  as  he  sat  before 
the  fire,  and  felt  honestly  indignant  with  all  the  inhu- 
man people  at  the  party,  who  were  keeping  him  up.  He 
was  not  put  into  better  humour  either,  by  the  reflection 
that  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head,  early  in  the  evening, 
to  think  he  had  got  an  ache  there,  and  so  stopped  at 
home.  At  length,  after  several  droppings  asleep,  and 
fallings  forward  towards  the  bars,  and  catchings  back- 
ward soon  enough  to  prevent  being  branded  in  the  face, 
Mr.  Dowler  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  throw  him- 
self on  the  bed  in  the  back-room  and  think — not  sleep,  of 
course. 

"I'm  a  heavy  sleeper,"  said  Mr.  Dowler,  as  he  flung 
himself  on  the  bed.  "  I  must  keep  awake;  I  suppose  I 
shall  hear  a  knock  here.    Yes.    1  thought  so.    I  can 


124  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


hear  the  watchman.  There  he  goes.  Fainter  now, 
though.  A  little  fainter.  He's  turning  the  corner.  Ah! " 
When  Mr.Dowler  arrived  at  this  point,  he  turned  the 
corner  at  which  he  had  been  long  hesitating,  and  fell 
fast  asleep. 

Just  as  the  clock  struck  three,  there  was  blown  into 
the  Crescent  a  sedan-chair,  with  Mrs.  Dowler  inside; 
borne  by  one  short  fat  chairman,  and  one  long  thin  one, 
who  had  had  much  ado,  all  the  way,  to  keep  their  bodies 
perpendicular:  to  say  nothing  of  the  chair;  but  on  that 
high  ground,  and  in  the  Crescent,  which  the  wind  swept 
round  and  round  as  if  it  were  going  to  tear  the  paving 
stones  up,  its  fury  was  tremendous.  They  were  very 
glad  to  set  the  chair  down,  and  give  a  good  round  loud 
double-knock  at  the  street  door. 

They  waited  some  time,  but  nobody  came. 

''Servants  is  in  the  arms  o'  Porpus,  I  think,"  said  the 
short  chairman,  warming  his  hands  at  the  attendant  . 
link-boy's  torch. 

"1  wish  he'd^ive  'em  a  squeeze  and  wake  'em,"  ob- 
served the  long  one. 

''Knock  again,  will  you,  if  you  please,"  cried  Mrs. 
Dowler  from  the  chair.  "Knock  two  or  three  times,  if 
you  please." 

The  short  man  was  quite  willing  to  get  the  job  over, 
as  soon  as  possible;  so  he  stood  on  the  step,  and  gave 
four  or  five  most  startling  double-knocks,  of  eight  or  ten 
knocks  a  piece;  while  the  long  man  went  into  the  road, 
and  looked  up  to  the  windows  for  a  light. 

Nobody  came.  It  was  all  as  silent  and  as  dark  as 
ever. 

"Dear  me!"  said  Mrs.  Dowler.  "You  must  knock 
again,  if  you  please." 

"There  ain't  a  bell,  is  there,  ma'am?"  said  the  short 
chairman. 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  interposed  the  link-boy,  "  I've  been  a 
ringing  at  it  ever  so  long." 

"It's  only  a  handle,"  said  Mrs.  Dowler,  "the  wire's 
broken." 

"I  wish  the  servant's  heads  wos,"  growled  the  long 
man. 

"  I  must  trouble  you  to  knock  again,  if  you  please," 
said  Mrs.  Dowler,  with  the  utmost  politeness. 
The  short  man  did  knock  again  several  times,  without 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


125 


producing  the  smallest  effect.  The  tall  man,  growing 
very  impatient,  then  relieved  him,  and  kept  on  perpetu- 
ally knocking  double-knocks  of  two  loud  knocks  each, 
like  an  insane  postman. 

At  length  Mr.  Winkle  began  to  dream  that  he  was  at 
a  club,  and  that  the  members  being  very  refractory,  the 
chairman  was  obliged  to  hammer  the  table  a  good  deal 
to  preserve  order;  then  he  had  a  confused  notion  of  an 
auction  room  where  there  were  no  bidders,  and  the  auc- 
tioneer was  buying  everything  in;  and  ultimately  he 
began  to  think  it  just  within  the  bounds  of  possibility 
that  somebody  might  be  knocking  at  the  street  door. 
To  make  quite  certain,  however,  he  remained  quiet  in 
bed  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  and  listened;  and  when  he 
had  counted  two  or  three  and  thirty  knocks,  he  felt 
quite  satisfied,  and  gave  himself  a  great  deal  of  credit 
for  being  so  wakeful. 

''Rap  rap — rap  rap — rap  rap — ra,  ra,  ra,  ra,  ra,  rap!" 
went  the  knocker. 

Mr.  Winkle  jumped  out  of  bed,  wondering  very  much 
what  could  possibly  be  the  matter,  and  hastily  putting 
on  his  stockings  and  slippers,  folded  his  dressing-gown 
round  him,  lighted  a  flat  candle  from  the  rush-light 
that  was  burning  in  the  fire-place,  and  hurried  down 
stairs. 

"  Here's  somebody  comin'  at  last,  ma'am,"  said  the 
short  chairman. 

"  I  wish  I  wos  behind  him  vith  a  bradawl,"  muttered 
the  long  one. 

"  Who's  there?"  cried  Mr.  Winkle,  undoing  the  chain. 

''Don't  stop  to  ask  questions,  cast-iron  head,"  replied 
the  long  man,  with  great  disgust,  taking  it  for  granted 
that  the  inquirer  was  a  footman;  "  but  open  the  door." 

"Come,  look  sharp,  timber  eye-lids,"  added  the  other, 
encouragingly. 

Mr.  Winkle,  being  half  asleep,  obeyed  the  command 
mechanically,  opened  the  door  a  little,  and  peeped  out. 
The  first  thing  he  saw  was  the  red  glare  of  the  link-boy's 
torch.  Startled  hj  the  sudden  fear  that  the  house  might 
be  on  fire,  he  hastily  threw  the  door  wide  open,  and  hold- 
ing the  candle  above  his  head,  stared  eagerly  before 
him,  not  quite  certain  whether  what  he  saw  was  a  sedan- 
chair  or  a  fire  engine.  At  tliis  instant  there  came  a 
violent  gust  of  wind;  the  light  was  blown  out;  Mr.  Winkle 


126  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OS^ 


felt  himself  irresistibly  impelled  on  to  the  steps;  and  the 
door  blew  to,  with  a  loud  crash. 

''Well,  young  man,  now  j on  have  done  it!"  said  the 
short  chairman. 

Mr.  Winkle,  catching  sight  of  a  lady's  face  at  the  win- 
dow of  the  sedan,  turned  hastily  round,  plied  the  knocker 
with  all  his  might  and  main,  and  called  frantically  upon 
the  chairman  to  take  the  chair  away  again. 

''Take  it  away,  take  it  away,"  cried  Mr.  Winkle. 
"  Here's  somebody  coming  out  of  another  house;  put  me 
into  the  chair.    Hide  me — do  something  with  me !" 

All  this  time  he  was  shivering  with  cold;  and  every 
time  he  raised  his  hand  to  the  knocker  the  wind  took  the 
dressing-gown  in  a  most  unpleasant  manner. 

"  The  people  are  coming  down  the  Crescent  now. 
There  are  ladies  with  'em;  cover  me  up  with  something. 
Stand  before  me!"  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  But  the  chair- 
men were  too  much  exhausted  with  laughing  to  afford 
him  the  slightest  assistance,  and  the  ladies  were  every 
moment  approaching  nearer  and  nearer. 

Mr.  Winkle  gave  a  last  hopeless  knock;  the  ladies 
were  only  a  few  doors  off.  He  threw  away  the  extin- 
guished candle  which  all  this  time  he  had  held  above 
his  head,  and  fairly  bolted  into  the  sedan-chair  where 
Mrs.  Dowler  was. 

Now  Mrs.  Craddock  had  heard  the  knocking  and  the 
voices  at  last;  and,  only  waiting  to  put  something 
smarter  on  her  head  than  her  night-cap,  ran  down  into 
the  front  drawing-room  to  make  sure  that  it  was  the 
right  party.  Throwing  up  the  window-sash  as  Mr. 
Winkle  was  rushing  into  the  chair,  she  no  sooner  caught 
sight  of  what  was  going  forward  below  than  she  raised 
a  vehement  and  dismal  shriek,  and  implored  Mr.  Dow- 
ler to  get  up  directly,  for  his  wife  was  running  away  with 
another  gentleman. 

Upon  this  Mr.  Dowler  bounced  off  the  bed  as  abruptly 
as  an  India-rubber  ball,  and  rushing  into  the  front  room, 
arrived  at  one  window  just  as  Mr.  Pickwick  threw  up 
the  other;  when  the  first  object  that  met  the  gaze  of  both 
was  Mr.  Winkle  bolting  into  the  sedan-chair. 

"  Watchman,"  shouted  Dowler  furiously;  "  stop  him — 
hold  him — keep  him  tight — shut  him  in,  till  I  come 
down.  I'll  cut  his  throat — give  me  a  knife — from  ear  to 
ear,  Mrs.  Craddock.    I  will!"   And,  breaking  from  tho 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


127 


shrieking  landlady,  and  from  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  indig- 
nant husband  seized  a  small  supper-knife,  and  tore  into 
the  street. 

But  Mr.  Winkle  didn't  wait  for  him.  He  no  sooner 
heard  the  horrible  threat  of  the  valourous  Dowler  than 
he  bounced  out  of  the  sedan,  quite  as  quickly  as  he  had 
bounced  in,  and  throwing  off  his  slippers  into  the  road, 
took  to  his  heels  and  tore  down  the  Crescent,  hotly  pur- 
sued by  Dowler  and  the  watchman.  He  kept  ahead;  the 
door  was  open  as  he  came  round  the  second  time;  he 
rushed  in,  slammed  it  in  Dowler's  face,  mounted  to  his 
bed-room,  locked  the  door,  piled  a  wash-hand-stand, 
chest  of  drawers,  and  table  against  it,  and  packed  up  a 
few  necessaries  ready  for  flight  with  the  first  ray  of 
morning. 

Dowler  came  up  to  the  outside  of  the  door;  avowed, 
through  the  key-hole,  his  steadfast  determination  of  cut- 
ting Mr.  Winkle's  throat  next  day;  and,  after  a  great 
confusion  of  vpices  in  the  drawing-room,  amidst  which 
that  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  distinctly  heard  endeavouring 
to  make  peace,  the  inmates  dispersed  to  their  several 
bed-chambers,  and  all  was  quiet  once  more. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  inquiry  may  be  made,  where 
Mr.  Weller  was  all  this  time?  We  will  state  where  he 
was  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HONOURABLY  ACCOUNTS  FOR  MR.  WELLER'S  ABSENCE,  BY 
DESCRIBING  A  SOIREE  TO  WHICH  HE  WAS  INVITED  AND 
WENT;  ALSO  RELATES  HOW  HE  WAS  ENTRUSTED  BY  MR. 
PICKWICK  WITH  A  PRIVATE  MISSION  OF  DELICACY  AND 
IMPORTANCE. 

'"  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Craddock,  upon  the  morn- 
ing of  this  very  eyentful  day,  "  here's  a  letter  for  you." 

Werry  odd  that,"  said  8am,  "  I'm  afeerd  there  must 
be  somethin'  the  matter,  for  I  don't  recollect  any  gen'l'- 
m'n  in  my  circle  of  acquaintance  as  is  capable  o'  writin' 
one." 

"  Perhaps  something  uncommon  has  taken  place/'  ob- 
geryed  Mrs.  Craddock. 


138  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

^^It  must  be  somethin'  werry  uncommon  indeed,  as 
could  perduce  a  letter  out  o'  any  friend  o'  mine,"  replied 
Sam,  shaking  his  head  dubiously;  nothin'  less  than  a 
nat'ral  conwulsion,  as  the  young  gen'Fm'n  observed  ven 
he  was  took  with  fits.  It  can't  be  from  the  gov'ner,*' 
said  Sam,  looking  at  the  direction.  -  "  He  always  prints, 
I  know,  'cos  he  learnt  writin'  from  the  large  bills  in  the 
bookin'  offices.  It's  a  werry  strange  thing,  now,  where 
this  here  letter  can  ha'  come  from." 

As  Sam  said  this,  he  did  what  a  great  many  people  do 
when  they  are  uncertain  about  the  writer  of  a  note — 
looked  at  the  seal,  and  then  at  the  front,  and  then  at  the 
back,  and  then  at  the  sides,  and  then  at  the  superscrip- 
tion; and,  as  a  last  resource,  thought  perhaps  he  might 
as  well  look  at  the  inside,  and  try  to  find  out  from  that. 

"  It's  wrote  on  gilt-edged  paper,"  said  Sam,  as  he  un- 
foldedjt,  and  sealed  in  bronze  vax  vith  the  top  of  a 
door-key.  Now  for  it."  And,  with  a  very  grave  face, 
Mr.  Weller  slowly  read  as  follows: 

A  select  company  of  the  Bath  footmen  presents  their 
compliments  to  Mr.  Weller,  and  requests  the  pleasure  of 
his  company  this  evening,  to  a  friendly  swarry,  consist- 
ing of  a  boiled  leg  of  mutton  with  the  usual  trimmings. 
The  swarry  to  be  on  table  at  half-past  nine  o'clock 
punctually." 

This  was  inclosed  in  another  note,  which  ran  thus: 

'^Mr.  John  Smauker,  the  gentleman  who  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Weller  at  the  house  of  their 
mutual  acquaintance,  Mr.  Bantam,  a  few  days  since, 
begs  to  inclose  Mr.  Weller  the  herewith  invitation.  If 
Mr.  Weller  will  call  on  Mr.  John  Smauker  at  nine 
o'clock,  Mr.  John  Smauker  will  have  the  pleasure  of  in-  , 
troducing  Mr.  Weller. 

(Signed)  John  Smauker," 

The  envelope  was  directed  to  blank  Weller,  Esq. ,  at 
Mr.  Pickwick's;  and  in  a  parenthesis,  in  the  left  hand 
corner,  were  the  words  "^^airy  bell,"  as  an  instruction  to 
the  bearer. 

Veil,"  said  Sam,  ''this  is  comin'  it  ray ther  powerful, 
this  is.    I  never  heerd  a  biled  leg  o'  mutton  called  a 
swarry  afore.    I  wonder  wot  they'd  call  a  roast  one." 
Jlowever,  without  waiting  to  debate  the  point,  Sain  £tt 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


129 


once  betook  himself  into  the  presence  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 

and  requested  leave  of  absence  for  that  evening,  which 
was  readily  granted.  With  this  permission,  and  the 
street-door  key,  Sam  Weller  issued  forth  a  little  before 
the  appointed  time,  and  strolled  leisurely  towards  Queen 
Square,  which  he  no  sooner  gained  than  he  had  the  satis- 
faction of  beholding  Mr.  John  Smauker  leaning  his 
powdered  head  against  a  lamp-post  at  a  short  distance 
off,  smoking  a  cigar  through  an  amber  tube. 

''How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller?"  said  Mr.  John 
Smauker,  raising  his  hat  gracefully  with  one  hand, 
while  he  gently  waved  the  other  in  a  condescending 
manner.       How  do  you  do,  sir?" 

Why,    reasonably   conwalessent,"  replied  Sam. 

How  do  yott  find  yourself,  my  dear  feller?" 

^'  Only  so,  so,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker. 
Ah,  you've  been  a  workin'  too  hard,"  observed  Sam. 
''I  was  fearful  you  would;  it  won't  do,  you  know;  you 
must  not  give  way  to  that  'ere  uncompromisin'  spirit  o' 
yourn." 

"  It's  not  so  much  that,  Mr.  Weller,"  replied  Mr.  John 
Smauker,  ''as  bad  wine;  I'm  afraid  I've  been  dissipat- 
ing." 

"  Oh!  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  Sam;  ''  that's  a  werry  bad 
complaint,  that." 

''And  yet  the  temptation,  you  see,  Mr.  Weller,"  ob- 
served Mr.  John  Smauker. 

''  Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  Sam. 

*' Plunged  into  the  very  vortex  of  society,  you  know, 
Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  with  a  sigh. 

'^ Dreadful  indeed!"  rejoined  Sam. 

''But  it's  always  the  way,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker; 
"  if  your  destiny  leads  you  into  public  life,  and  public 
station,  you  must  expect  to  be  subjected  to  temptations 
which  other  people  is  free  from,  Mr.  Weller." 

"  Precisely  what  my  uncle  said  ven  he  went  into  the 
public  line,"  remarked  Sam,  and  werry  right  the  old 
gen'l'm'n  wos,  for  he  drank  hisself  to  death  in  some- 
thin'  less  than  a  quarter." 

Mr.  John  Smauker  looked  deeply  indignant  at  any 
parallel  being  drawn  between  himself  and  the  deceased 
gentleman  in  question;  but  as  Sam's  face  was  in  the 
most  immovable  state  of  calmness,  he  thought  better  of 
it,  and  looked  affable  again. 


130  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

Perhaps  we  had  better  be  walking,"  said  Mr. 
Smauker,  consulting  a  copper  time-piece  which  dwelt 
at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  watch-pocket,  and  was  raised  to 
the  surface  by  means  of  a  black  string,  with  a  copper 
key  at  the  other  end. 

^'P'raps  we  had,"  replied  Sam,  ^^or  they'll  overdo  the 
swarry,  and  that'll  spile  it." 

"^^Have  you  drank  the  waters,  Mr.  Weller?"  inquired 
his  companion,  as  they  walked  towards  High  Street. 

^'  Once,"  replied  Sam. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  'em,  sir?  " 

^'I  thought  they  was  particklery  unpleasant,"  replied 
Sam. 

''Ah,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  "you  disliked  the 
killibeate  taste,  perhaps?" 

''I  don't  know  much  about  that  'ere,"  said  Sam.  I 
thought  they'd  a  worry  strong  flavour  o'  warm  flat- 
irons." 

"  That  is  the  killibeate,  Mr.  Weller,"  observed  Mr. 
John  Smauker,  contemptuously. 

''Well,  if  it  is,  it's  a  worry  inexpressive  word,  that's 
all,"  said  Sam. "It  may  be,  but  I  ain't  much  in  the 
chimical  line  myself,  so  I  can't  say."  And  here,  to  the 
great  horror  of  Mr.  John  Smauker,  Sam  Weller  began 
to  whistle. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mr.  John 
Smauker,  agonized  at  the  exceedingly  ungenteel  sound. 
"  Will  you  take  my  arm? " 

"  Thankee,  you're  worry  good,  but  I  won't  deprive  you 
of  it,"  replied  Sam.  "I've  rayther  a  way  o'  puttin'  my 
my  hands  in  my  pockets,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you."  As 
Sam  said  this,  he  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and 
whistled  far  louder  than  before. 

"  This  way,"  said  his  new  friend,  apparently  much  re- 
lieved as  they  turned  down  a  bye  street;  "  we  shall  soon 
be  there." 

"Shall  we?"  said  Sam,  quite  unmoved  by  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  close  vicinity  to  the  select  footmen  of 
Bath. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker.    "Don't  be  alarmed, 

Mr.  Weller." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Sam.  • 
"You'll  see  some  very  handsome  uniforms,  Mr. 

Waller/'  continued  Mr.  John  Smauker;  "and  perhaps 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


131 


you'll  find  some  of  the  gentlemen  rather  high  at  first, 
you  know,  but  they'll  soon  come  round." 

'^That's  werry  kind  on  em,"  replied  Sam. 

''And  you  know,"  resumed  Mr.  John  Smauker,  with 
an  air  of  sublime  protection;  ''you  know,  as  you're  a 
stranger,  perhaps  they'll  be  rather  hard  upon  you  at 
first." 

"They  won't  be  werry  cruel,  though,  will  they?"  in- 
quired Sam. 

'"No,  no,"  replied  Mr.  John  Smauker,  pulling  forth 
the  fox's  head,  and  taking  a  gentlemanly  pinch.  "  There 
are  some  funny  dogs  among  us,  and  they  will  have 
their  joke,  you  "know;  but  you  mustn't  mind  'em,  you 
mustn't  mind  'em." 

"  I'll  try  and  bear  up  agin  such  a  reg'lar  knock  down 
o'  talent,"  replied  Sam. 

"That's  right,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  putting  up 
the  fox's  head  and  elevating  his  own;  "  I'll  stand  by 

you." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  a  small  greengrocer's 
shop,  which  MrT  John  Smauker  entered,  followed  by 
Sam,  who,  the  moment  he  got  behind  him,  relapsed  into 
a  series  of  the  very  broadest  and  most  unmitigated 
grins,  and  manifested  other  demonstrations  of  being  in 
a  highly  enviable  state  of  inward  merriment. 

Crossing  the  greengrocer's  shop,  and  putting  their 
hats  on  the  stairs  in  the  little  passage  behind  it,  they 
walked  into  a  small  parlour;  and  here  the  full  splendour 
of  the  scene  burst  upon  Mr.  Weller's  view. 

A  couple  of  tables  were  put  together  in  the  middle  of 
the  parlour,  covered  with  three  or  four  cloths  of  differ- 
ent ages  and  dates  of  washing,  arranged  to  look  as 
much  like  one  as  the  circumstances  of  the  case  would 
allow.  Upon  these  were  laid  knives  and  forks  for  six  or 
eight  people.  Some  of  the  knife  handles  were  green, 
others  red,  and  a  few  yellow;  and,  as  all  the  forks  were 
black,  the  combination  of  colours  was  exceedingly 
striking.  Plates  for  a  corresponding  number  of  guests 
were  warmin^behind  the  fender;  and  the  guests  them- 
selves were  warming  before  it:  the  chief  and  most  im- 
portant of  whom  appeared  to  be  astoutish  gentleman  in 
a  bright  crimson  coat  with  long  tails,  vividly  red 
breeches,  and  a  cocked  hat,  who  was  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  and  had  apparently  just  entered,  for, 


132  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


besides  retaining  his  cocked  hat  on  his  head,  he  carried 
in  his  hand  a  high  stick,  such  as  gentlemen  of  his  pro- 
fession usually  elevate  in  a  sloping  position  over  the 
roofs  of  carriages. 

"  Smauker,  my  lad — your  fin/'  said  the  gentleman  with 
the  cocked  hat. 

Mr.  Smauker  dovetailed  the  top  joint  of  his  right  hand 
little  finger  into  that  of  the  gentleman  with  the  cocked 
hat,  and  said  he  was  charmed  to  see  him  looking  so  well. 

''Well,  they  tell  me  I  am  looking  pretty  blooming," 
said  the  man  with  the  cocked  hat,  ''and  it's  a  wonder, 
too.  I've  been  following  our  old  woman  about,  two 
hours  a  day,  for  the  last  fortnight;  and  if  a  constant 
contemplation  of  the  manner  in  which  she  hooks-and- 
eyes  that  infernal  lavender-coloured  old  gown  of  hers 
behind  isn't  enough  to  throw  anybody  into  a  low  state 
of  despondency  for  life,  stop  my  quarter's  salary." 

At  this,  the  assembled  selections  laughed  very  heartily; 
and  one  gentleman  in  a  yellow  waistcoat,  with  a  coach 
trimming  border,  whispered  a  neighbour  in  green-foil 
smalls,  that  Tuckle  was  in  spirits  to-night. 

"By  the  bye,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle,  "Smauker,  my  boy, 
you — "  The  remainder  of  the  sentence  was  forwarded 
into  Mr.  John  Smauker's  ear,  by  whisper. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  I  quite  forgot,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker. 
"Gentlemen,  my  friend,  Mr.  Weller." 

"Sorry  to  keep  the  fire  off  you,  Weller,"  said  Mr. 
Tuckle,  with  a  familiar  nod.  "Hope  you're  not  cold, 
Weller." 

"  Not  by  no  means,  Blazes,"  replied  Sam.  "  It  'ud  be 
a  worry  chilly  subject  as  felt  cold  wen  you  stood  oppo- 
sit.  You'd  save  coals  if  they  put  you  behind  the  fender 
in  the  waitin'  room  at  a  public  office,  you  would." 

As  this  retort  appeared  to  convey  rather  a  personal  allu- 
sion to  Mr.  Tuckle's  crimson  livery,  that  gentleman  looked 
majestic  for  a  few  seconds,  but  gradually  edged  away 
from  the  fire,  broke  into  a  forced  smile,  and  said  it  wasn't 
bad. 

"Worry  much  obliged  for  your  good  oj^nion,  sir,"  re- 
plied Sam.  ''  We  shall  get  on  by  degrees,  I  des-say. 
We'll  try  a  better  one,  bye  and  bye." 

At  this  point  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  a  gentleman  in  orange-coloured  plush,  accom- 
panied by  another  selection  in  purple  cloth,  with  a  great 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB, 


133 


extent  of  stocking.  The  new  comers  having  been  wel- 
comed by  the  old  ones,  Mr.  Tuckle  put  the  question  that 
supper  be  ordered  in,  which  was  carried  unanimously. 

The  greengrocer  and  his  wife  then  arranged  upon  tlie 
table  a  boiled  leg  of  mutton,  hot,  with  caper  sauce,  tur- 
nips, and  potatoes.  Mr.  Tuckle  took  the  chair,  and  w^as 
supported  at  the  other  end  of  the  board  by  the  gentle- 
man in  orange  plush.  The  greengrocer  put  on  a  pair  of 
wash-leather  gloves  to  hand  the  plates  with,  and  sta- 
tioned himself  behind  Mr.  Tuckle's  chair. 

''Harris,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle,  in  a  commanding  tone. 

''Sir,"  said  the  greengrocer. 

"  Have  you  got  your  gloves  on?" 

"Yes  sir." 

"Then  take  the  kiver  off." 
"Yes,  sir." 

The  greengrocer  did  as  he  was  told,  with  a  show  of 
great  humility,  and  obsequiously  handed  Mr.  Tuckle  the 
carving  knife;  in  doing  so  he  accidentally  gaped. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Tuckle, 
with  great  asperity. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  the  crestfallen  green- 
grocer, "  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  sir;  I  was  up  very  late 
last  night,  sir." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  my  opinion  of  you  is,  Harris,"  said 
Mr.  Tuckle,  with  a  most  impressive  air;  "  you're  a  wul- 
gar  beast." 

"  I  hope,  gentlemen,"  said  Harris,  "  that  you  won't  be 
severe  vv-ith  me,  gentlemen.  I'm  very  much  obliged  to 
you  indeed,  gentlemen,  for  your  patronage,  and  also  for 
your  recommendations,  gentlemen,  whenever  additional 
assistance  in  waiting  is  required.  I  hope,  gentlemen,  I 
give  satisfaction." 

"  No,  you  don't,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle.  "Very  far  from 
it,  sir." 

"We  consider  you  an  inattentive  reskel,"  said  the 
gentleman  in  the  orange  plush. 

"  And  a  low  thief,"  added  the  gentleman  in  the  green-- 
foil  smalls. 

"And  an  unreclaimable  blaygaird,"  added  the  gen-^ 
tleman  in  purple. 

The  poor  greengrocer  bowed  very  humbly  while  these 
little  epithets  were  bestowed  upon  him,  in  the  true  spirit 
of  the  very  smallest  tyranny;  and  when  everybody  had 


184  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


said  something  to  show  his  superiority,  Mr.  Tuckle  pro- 
ceeded to  carve  the  leg  of  mutton,  and  to  help  the 
company. 

This  important  business  of  the  evening  had  hardly 
commenced,  when  the  door  was  thrown  briskly  open, 
and  another  gentleman  in  a  light-blue  suit,  and  leaden 
buttons,  made  his  appearance. 

"  Against  the  rules,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle.  Too  late,  too 
late." 

"'Eo,  no;  positively  I  couldn't  help  it,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman in  blue.  ^'I  appeal  to  the  company — an  affair  of 
gallantry  now — an  appintment  at  the  theayter." 

"  Oh,  that  indeed,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  orange 
plush. 

"Yes,  raly  now,  honour  bright,"  said  the  man  in  blue. 
"  I  made  a  promise  to  fetch  our  youngest  daughter  at 
half -past  ten,  and  she  is  such  an  uncauminly  fine  gal, 
that  I  raly  hadn't  the  art  to  disapint  her.  No  offence  to 
the  present  company,  sir,  but  a  petticut,  sir — a  petticut, 
sir,  is  irrevokeable." 

I  begin  to  suspect  there  is  something  in  that  quar- 
ter," said  Tuckle,  as  the  new  comer  took  his  seat  next 
Sam.  "V\e  remarked,  once  or  twice,  that  she  leans 
very  heavy  on  your  shoulder  when  she  gets  in  and  out 
of  the  carriage."  • 

''Oh,  raly,  raly,  Tuckle,  you  shouldn't,"  said  the  man 
in  blue.  ' '  It's  not  fair.  1  may  have  said  to  one  or  two 
friends  that  she  was  a  very  divine  creechure,  and  had 
refused  one  or  two  offers  without  any  hobvus  cause, 
but — no,  no,  no,  indeed,  Tuckle — before  strangers,  too— 
it's  not  right — you  shouldn't.  Delicacy,  my  dear  friend, 
delicacy!"  And  the  man  in  blue,  pulling  up  his  necker- 
chief, and  adjusting  his  coat  cuffs,  nodded  and  frowned 
as  if  there  were  more  behind,  which  he  could  say  if  he 
liked,  but  was  bound  in  honour  to  suppress. 

The  man  in  blue  being  a  light-haired,  stiff-necked,  free 
and  easy  sort  of  footman,  with  a  swaggering  air  and 
pert  face,  had  attracted  Mr.  Weller's  attention  at  first, 
Wt  when  he  began  to  come  out  in  this  way,  Sam  felt 
more  than  ever  disposed  to  cultivate  his  acquaintance; 
so  he  launched  himself  into  the  conversation  at  once, 
with  characteristic  independence. 

''Your  health,  sir,"  said  Sam.  "I  like  your  conwer- 
^ation  much.    I  think  it's  werry  pretty," 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


135 


At  this  the  man  in  blue  smiled,  as  if  it  were  a  compli- 
ment he  was  well  used  to;  but  looked  approvingly  on 
Sam  at  the  same  time,  and  said  he  hoped  he  should  be 
better  acquainted  with  him,  for  without  any  flattery  at 
all  he  seemed  to  have  the  makings  of  a  very  nice  young 
fellow  about  him — just  the  man  after  his  own  heart. 

"  You're  worry  good,  sir/'  said  Sam.  "  What  a  lucky 
feller  you  are!" 

"  How  do  you  mean?"  inquired  the  gentleman  in  blue. 
That 'ere  young  lady,"  replied  Sam.  ^'She  knows 
wot's  wot,  she  does.  Ah,  I  see."  Mr.  Weller  closed  one 
eye,  and  shook  his  head  from  side  to  side,  in  a  manner 
which  was  highly  gratifying  to  the  personal  vanity  of 
the  gentleman  in  blue. 

I'm  afraid  you're  a  cunning  fellow,  Mr.  Weller,"  said 
that  individual. 

^'No,  no,"  said  Sam,  ''I  leave  all  that  'ere  to  you. 
It's  a  great  deal  more  in  your  Vv^ay  than  mine,  as  the 
gen'l'm'n  on  the  right,  side  of  the  garden  vail  said  to  the 
man  on  the  wrong  'un,  ven  the  mad  bull  wos  a  comin' 
up  the  lane." 

Well,  well,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  gentleman  in  blue, 
'^I  think  she  has  remarked  my  air  and  manner,  Mr. 
Weller." 

"  I  should  think  she  couldn't  worry  well  be  off  o'  that," 
said  Sam. 

Have  you  any  little  thing  of  that  kind  in  hand,  sir?" 
inquired  the  favoured  gentleman  in  blue,  drawing  a 
toothpick  from  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

'^Not  exactly,"  said  Sam.  There's  no  daughters  at 
my  place,  else  o'  course  I  should  ha'  made  up  to  one  on 
'em.  As  it  is,  I  don't  think  I  can  do  vith  anythin'  under 
a  female  markis.  I  might  take  up  vith  a  young  ooinan 
o'  large  property  as  hadn't  a  title,  if  she  made  worry 
fierce  love  to  me — not  else." 

''Of  course  not,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  gentleman  in 
blue,  *'one  can't  be  troubled,  you  know;  and  ine  know, 
Mr.  Weller — we,  wlio  are  men  o'  tlie  world— tliat  a  good 
uniform  must  work  its  way  with  the  women,  sooner  oi* 
later.  In  fact,  that's  the  only  thing,  between  you  and 
me,  that  makes  the  service  worth  entering  into." 
Just  so,"  said  Sam,    ''That's  it,  o'  course." 

When  this  confidential  dialogue  had  gone  thus  far, 
glasses  were  placed  round,  and  every  gentleman  ordered 


136  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


what  he  liked  best,  before  the  public  house  shut  up. 
The  gentleman  in  blue,  and  the  man  in  orange,  who 
were  the  chief  exquisites  of  the  party,  ordered  ''cold 
srub  and  water,"  but,  with  the  others,  gin  and  water, 
sweet,  appeared  to  be  the  favourite  beverage.  Sam 
called  the  greengrocer  a  "  desp'rate  willin,"  and  ordered 
a  large  bowl  of  punch — two  circumstances  which  seemed 
to  raise  him  very  much  in  the  opinion  of  the  selections. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  man  in  blue,  with  an  air  of 
the  most  consummate  dandyism,  "  I'll  give  you  the 
ladies  ;  come." 

"  Hear,  hear,"  said  Sam.    "  The  young  missises." 

Here  there  was  a  loud  cry  of  "  Order,"  and  Mr.  John 
Smauker,  as  the  gentleman  who  had  introduced  Mr. 
Weller  into  the  company,  begged  to  inform  him  that 
the  word  he  had  just  made  use  of  was  unparliamentary. 
Which  word  was  that  'ere,  sir  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

^'Missises,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  John  Smauker,  with  an 
alarming  frown.  "  We  don't  recognize  such  distinctions 
here." 

''Oh,  werry  good,"  said  Sam;  "then  Til  amend  the 
obserwation,  and  call  'em  dear  creeturs,  if  Blazes  will 
allow  me." 

Some  doubt  seemed  to  exist  in  the  mind  of  the  gentle- 
man in  the  green-foil  smalls,  whether  the  chairman 
could  be  legally  appealed  to  as  "  Blazes,"  but  as  the 
company  seemed  more  disposed  to  stand  upon  their  own 
rights  than  his,  the  question  was  not  raised.  The  ma.n 
with  the  cocked  hat  breathed  short,  and  looked  long  at 
Sam,  but  apparently  thought  it  as  well  to  say  nothing,  in 
case  he  should  get  the  worst  of  it. 

After  a  short  silence,  a  gentleman  in  an  embroidered 
coat  reaching  down  to  his  heels,  and  a  waistcoat  of  the 
same  which  kept  one  half  of  his  legs  warm,  stirred  his 
gin  and  water  with  great  energy,  and  putting  himself 
upon  his  feet,  all  at  once,,  by  a  violent  effort,  said  he  was 
desirous  of  offering  a  few  remarks  to  the  company: 
whereupon  the  person  in  the  cocked  hat  had  no  doubt 
tffat  the  company  would  feel  very  happy  to  hear  any 
remarks  that  the  man  in  the  long  coat  might  wish  to 
offer. 

"I  feel  a  great  delicacy,  gentlemen,  in  coming 
for'ard,"  said  the  man  in  the  long  coat,  "having  the 
misf  orchune  to  be  a  coachman,  and  being  only  admitted 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB, 


as  a  honourary  member  of  these  agreeable  swarrvs,  but  I 
do  feel  myself  bound,  gentlemen — drove  into  a  corner,  if 
I  may  use  the  expression— to  make  known  an  afflicting 
circumstance  which  has  come  to  my  knowledge;  which 
has  happened,  I  may  say,  within  the  soap  of  my  every 
(lay  contemplation.  Gentlemen,  our  friend  Mr.  Whiff ers 
(everybody  looked  at  the  individual  in  orange) — our 
friend  Mr.  Whiff  ers  has  resigned." 

Universal  astonishment  fell  upon  the  hearers.  Each 
gentleman  looked  in  his  neighbour's  face,  and  then 
transferred  his  glance  to  the  upstanding  coachman. 

You  may  well  be  sapparised,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
coachman.  I  will  not  wenchure  to  state  the  reasons 
of  this  irrepairabel  loss  to  the  service,  but  I  will  beg  Mr. 
Whiff  ers  to  state  them  himself,  for  the  improvement  and 
imitation  of  his  admiring  friends." 

The  suggestion  being  loudly  approved  of,  Mr.  Whiffers 
explained.  He  said  he  certainly  could  have  wished  to 
have  continued  to  hold  the  appointment  he  had  just  re- 
signed. The  uniform  was  extremely  rich  and  expensive, 
the  females  of  the  family  was  most  agreeable,  and  the 
duties  of  the  situation  was  not,  he  was  bound  to  say,  too 
heavy:  the  principal  service  that  was  required  of  him 
being  that  he  should  look  out  of  the  hall  window  as 
much  as  possible,  in  company  with  another  gentleman, 
who  had  also  resigned.  He  could  have  wished  to  have 
spared  that  company  the  painful  and  disgusting  detail 
on  which  he  was  about  to  enter,  but  as  the  explanation 
had  been  demanded  of  him,  he  had  no  alternative 
but  to  state,  boldly  and  distinctly,  that  he  had  been 
required  to  eat  cold  meat. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  disgust  which  this 
avowal  awakened  in  the  bosoms  of  the  hearers.  Loud 
cries  of  "  shame  ! "  mingled  with  groans  and  hisses,  pre- 
vailed for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Mr.  Whiffers  then  added  that  he  feared  that  a  portion 
of  this  outrage  might  be  traced  to  his  own  forbearing 
and  accommodating  disposition.  He  had  a  distinct 
recollection  of  having  once  consented  to  eat  salt  butter, 
and  he  had,  moreover,  on  an  occasion  of  sudden  sick- 
ness in  the  house,  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to  carry  a 
coal-scuttle  up  to  the  second  floor.  He  trusted  he  had 
not  lowered  himself  in  the  good  opinion  of  his  friends 
by  tJiis  frank  confession  of  his  faults;  and  he  hoped  the 


138 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


promptness  with  which  he  had  resented  the  last  unmanly 
outrage  on  his  feelings,  to  which  he  had  referred,  would 
reinstate  him  in  their  good  opinion,  if  he  had. 

Mr.  Whiffers'  address  was  responded  to  with  a  shout 
of  admiration,  and  the  health  of  the  interesting  martyr 
was  drunk  in  a  most  enthusiastic  manner;  for  this,  the 
martyr  returned  thanks,  and  proposed  their  visitor,  Mr. 
Weller — a  gentleman  whom  he  had  not  the  pleasure  of 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with,  but  who  was  the  friend 
of  Mr.  John  Smauker,  which  was  a  sufficient  letter  of 
recommendation  to  any  society  of  gentlemen  whatever, 
or  wherever.  On  this  account  he  should  have  been  dis- 
posed to  have  given  Mr.  Weller's  health  with  all  the 
honours,  if  his  friends  had  been  drinking  wine;  but  as 
they  were  taking  spirits  by  way  of  a  change:  and  as  it 
might  be  inconvenient  to  empty  a  tumbler  at  every 
toast:  he  should  propose  that  the  honours  be  understood. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  everybody  took  a  sip 
in  honour  of  Sam;  and  Sam  having  ladled  out,  and 
drunk,  two  full  glasses  of  punch  in  honour  of  himself, 
returned  thanks  in  a  neat  speech. 

"  Werry  much  obliged  to  you,  old  fellers,''  said  Sam, 
ladling  away  at  the  punch  in  the  most  unembarrassed 
manner  possible,  ''for  this  here  compliment;  wich, 
comin'  from  sich  a  quarter,  is  werry  overvelmin'.  Pve 
heerd  a  good  deal  on  you  as  a  body,  but  I  will  say,  that 
I  never  thought  you  was  sich  uncommon  nice  men  as  I 
find  you  air.  I  only  hope  you'll  take  care  o'  yourselves, 
and  not  compromise  nothiti'  o'  your  dignity,  which  is  a 
werry  charmin'  thing  to  see,  when  one's  out  a  walkin', 
and  has  always  made  me  werry  happy  to  look  at,  ever 
since  I  was  a  boy  about  half  as  high  as  the  brass-headed 
stick  o'  my  very  respectable  friend.  Blazes,  there.  As 
to  the  wictim  of  oppression  in  the  suit  o'  brimstone,  all 
I  can  say  of  him,  is,  that  I  hope  he'll  get  jist  as  good  a 
berth  as  he  deserves:  in  vich  case  it's  werry  little  cold 
swarry  as  ever  he'll  be  troubled  with  agin." 

Here  Sam  sat  down  with  a  pleasant  smile,  and  his 
speech  having  been  vociferously  applauded,  the  com- 
pany broke  up. 

"  Wy,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you're  a  goin',  old  feller?  " 
said  Sam  Weller  to  his  friend^  Mr.  John  Smauker. 

''I  must  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Smauker;  ''I  promised 
Bantam." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


139 


^^Oh,  werry  well,"  said  Sam  ;  that's  another  thing. 
P'raps  he'd  resign  if  you  disappinted  him.  f  ou  ain't  a 
goin',  Blazes?" 

Yes,  I  am,"  said  the  man  with  the  cocked  hat. 
Wot,  and  leave  three  quarters  of  a  bowl  of  punch 
behind  you!  "  said  Sam;  ''nonsense,  sit  down  a^in." 

Mr.  Tuckle  was  not  proof  against  this  invitation.  Ho 
laid  aside  the  cocked  hat  and  stick  which  he  had  just 
taken  up,  and  said  he  would  have  one  glass,  for  good 
fellowship's  sake. 

As  the  gentleman  in  blue  went  home  the  same  way  as 
Mr.  Tuckle,  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  stop  too.  When 
the  punch  was  about  half  gone,  Sam  ordered  in  some 
oysters  from  the  greengrocer's  shop;  and  the  effect  of 
both  was  so  extremely  exhilarating,  that  Mr.  Tuckle, 
dressed  out  with  the  cocked  hat  and  stick,  danced  the 
frog  hornpipe  among  the  shells  on  the  table:  while  the 
gentleman  in  blue  played  an  accompaniment  upon  an 
ingenious  musical  instrument  formed  of  a  hair  comb 
and  a  curl-paper.  At  last,  when  the  punch  was  all  gone, 
and  the  night  nearly  so,  they  sallied  forth  to  see  each 
other  home.  Mr.  Tuckle  no  sooner  got  into  the  open 
air,  than  he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  desire  to  lie  on 
the  curb-stone;  Sam  thought  it  would  be  a  pity  to  con- 
tradict him,  and  so  let  him  have  his  own  way.  As  the 
cocked  hat  would  have  been  spoilt  if  left  there,  Sam  . 
very  considerately  flattened  it  down  on  the  head  of  the 
gentleman  in  blue,  and  putting  the  big  stick  in  his  hand, 

Eropped  liim  up  against  his  own  street-door,  rang  the 
ell,  and  walked  quietly  home. 

At  a  much  earlier  hour  next  morning  than  his  usual 
time  of  rising,  Mr.  Pickwick  walked  down  stairs  com- 
pletely dressed,  and  rang  the  bell. 

Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Mr.  Weller  appeared 
in  reply  to  the  summons,  ''shut  the  door." 

Mr.  Weller  did  so. 

^'  There  was  an  unfortunate  occurrence  here,  last  night, 
Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "which  gave  Mr.  Winkle 
some  cause  to  apprehend  violence  from  Mr.  Dowler." 

"  So  I've  heerd  from  the  old  lady  down  stairs,  sir," 
replied  Sam. 

"And  I'm  sorry  to  say,  Sam,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  most  perplexed  countenance,  "that  in  dread  of 
this  violence,  Mr.  Winkle  has  i^one  away." 


140 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  Gone  avay!"  said  Sam. 

'^Left  the  hou  seearly  this  morning,  without  the  slight- 
est previous  communication  with  me,"  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick.   "  And  is  gone,  I  know  not  where." 

'^He  should  ha'  stayed  and  fought  it  out,  sir,"  replied 
Sam,  contemptuously.  "  It  wouldn't  take  much  to  settle 
that  'ere  Dowler,  sir." 

"Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  may  have  my 
doubts  of  his  great  bravery  and  determination,  also. 
But  however  that  may  be,  Mr.  Winkle  is  gone.  He 
must  be  found,  Sam — found  and  brought  back  to  me." 

"And  s'pose  he  won't  come  back,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"He  must  be  made,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Who's  to  do  it,  sir?"  inquired  Sam,  with  a  smile. 

"You,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Werry  good,  sir." 

With  these  words  Mr.  Weller  left  the  room,  and  im- 
mediately afterwards  was  heard  to  shut  the  street  door. 
In  two  hours'  time  he  returned  with  as  much  coolness 
as  if  he  had  been  despatched  on  the  most  ordinary  mes- 
sage possible,  and  brought  the  information  that  an  in- 
dividual, in  every  respect  answering  Mr.  Winkle's  de- 
scription, had  gone  over  to  Bristol  that  morning,  by  the 
branch  coach  from  the  Royal  Hotel. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  grasping  his  hand,  "  you're 
•  a  capital  fellow;  an  invaluable  fellow.  You  must  fol- 
low him,  Sam." 

"  Cert'nly,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  The  instant  you  discover  him,  write  to  me  im- 
mediately, Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  If  he  attempts 
to  run  away  from  you,  knock  him  down,  or  lock  him 
up.    You  have  my  full  authority,  Sam." 

"  I'll  be  werry  careful,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam. 

"You'll  tell  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "that  I  am 
highly  excited,  highly  displeased,  and  naturally  indig- 
nant, at  the  very  extraordinary  course  he  has  thought 
proper  to  pursue." 

"  I  will,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"You'll  tell  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "that  if  he 
does  not  come  back  to  this  very  house,  with  you,  he 
will  come  back  with  me,  for  I  will  come  and  fetch  him." 

"  I'll  mention  that  'ere,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam. 

"You  think  you  can  find  him,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, looking  earnestly  in  his  face. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


141 


^^Oh,  Hi  find  him  if  lie's  anyvere,"  rejoined  Sam, 
with  great  confidence. 

"  Very  well,*'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  Then  the  sooner 
you  go  the  better." 

With  these  instructions,  Mr.  Pickwick  placed  a  sum 
ol  money  in  the  hands  of  his  faithful  servitor,  and 
ordered  him  to  start  for  Bristol  immediately,  in  pursuit 
of  the  fugitive. 

Sam  put  a  few  necessaries  in  a  ca.rpet-bag,  and  was 
ready  for  starting.  He  stopped  when  he  had  got  to  the 
end  of  the  passage,  and  walking  quietly  back,  thrust 
his  head  in  at  the  parlour  door. 

'^Sir,"  whispered  Sam. 

"  Well,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*I  fully  understand  my  instructions,  do  I,  sir?"  in- 
quired Sam. 

I  hope  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

It's  reg'larly  understood  about  the  knockin'  down,  is 
it,  sir?"  inquired  Sam. 

Perfectly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Thoroughly. 
Do  what  you  think  necessary.    You  have  my  orders." 

Sam  gave  a  nod  of  intelligence,  and  withdrawing  his 
liead  from  the  door,  set  forth  on  his  pilgrimage  with  a 
light  heart. 


CHAPTER  X. 

H(nV  MR.  WINKLE,  WHEN  HE  STEPPED  OUT  OF  THE  PRY- 
ING-PAN, WALKED  GENTLY  AND  COMFORTABLY  INTO  THE 
FIRE. 

The  ill-starred  gentleman  who  had  been  the  unfortu- 
nate cause  of  the  unusual  noise  and  disturbance  which 
alarmed  the  inha-bitants  of  the  Royal  Crescent  in  man- 
ner and  form  already  described,  after  passing  a  night  of 
great  confusion  and  anxiety,  left  the  roof  beneath 
wiiich  his  friends  still  slumbered,  bound  he  knew  not 
whither.  The  excellent  and  considerate  feelings  which 
prompted  Mr.  Winkle  to  take  this  step  can  never  be  too 
liighly  ai)preciated,  or  too  warmly  extolled.  "  If,"  rea- 
soikhI  Mr.  Winkle  with  hims(Of,  ''if  tliis  Dovvler  at- 
tempts (as  I  have  no  doubt  he  will)  to  carry  into  execu- 


142  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


tion  his  threat  of  personal  violence  against  myself,  it 
will  be  incumbent  on  me  to  call  him  out.  He  has  a  wife, 
that  wife  is  attached  to  and  dependent  on  him.  Heavens ! 
if  I  should  kill  him  in  the  blindness  of  my  wrath,  what 
would  be  my  feelings  ever  afterwards!"  This  painful 
consideration  operated  so  powerfully  on  the  feelings  of 
the  humane  young  man,  as  to  cause  his  knees  to  knock 
together,  and  his  countenance  to  exhibit  alarming  mani- 
festations of  inward  emotion.  Impelled  by  such  reflec- 
tions, he  grasped  his  carpet-bag,  and  creeping  stealthily 
down  stairs,  shut  the  detestable  street-door  with  as  little 
noise  as  possible,  and  walked  off.  Bending  bis  steps 
towards  the  Royal  Hotel,  he  found  a  coach  on  the  point 
of  starting  for  Bristol;  and  thinking  Bristol  as  good  a 
place  for  his  purpose  as  any  other  he  could  go  to,  he 
mounted  on  the  box,  and  reached  his  place  of  destina- 
tion in  such  time  as  the  pair  of  horses,  who  went  the 
whole  stage  and  back  again  twice  a  day  or  more,  could 
be  reasonably  supposed  to  arrive  there. 

He  took  up  his  quarters  at  the  Bush;  and  designing  to 
postpone  any  communication  by  letter  with  Mr.  Pickwick, 
until  it  wa.s  probable  that  Mr.  Dowler's  wrath  might 
have  in  some  degree  evaporated,  walked  forth  to  view 
the  city,  which  struck  him  as  being  a  shade  more  dirty 
than  any  place  he  had  ever  seen.  Having  inspected  the 
docks  and  shipping,  and  viewed  the  cathedral,  he  in- 
quired his  way  to  Clifton,  and  being  directed  thither, 
took  the  route  which  was  pointed  out  to  him.  But,  as 
the  pavements  of  Bristol  are  not  the  widest  or  cleanest 
upon  earth,  so  its  streets  are  not  altogether  the  straight- 
est  or  least  intricate;  and  Mr.  Winkle  being  greatly 
puzzled  by  their  manifold  windings  and  twistings,  looked 
about  him  for  a  decent  shop  in  which  he  could  apply 
afresh  for  counsel  and  instruction. 

His  eye  fell  upon  a  newly  painted  tenement  which 
had  been  recently  converted  into  something  between  a 
shop  and  a  private  house,  and  which  a  red  lamp,  pro- 
jecting over  the  fan-light  of  the  street-door,  would  have 
sufficiently  announced  as  the  residence  of  a  medical 
practitioner,  even  if  the  word  "  Surgery"  had  not  been 
inscribed  in  golden  characters  on  a  wainscoat  ground, 
above  the  window  of  what,  in  times  bygone,  had  been 
the  front  parlour.  Tliinking  this  an  eligible  place  wherein 
to  make  his  inquiries,  Mr.  Winkle  ^stepped  into  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


143 


little  shop  where  the  gilt-labelled  drawers  and  bottles 
were;  and  finding  nobody  there,  knocked  with  a  half- 
crown  on  the  counter,  to  attract  the  attention  of  any- 
body who  might  happen  to  be  in  the  back-parlour, 
which  he  judged  to  be  the  innermost  and  peculiar  sanc- 
tum of  the  establishment,  from  the  repetition  of  the 
word  surgery  on  the  door — painted  in  white  letters  this 
time,  by  way  of  taking  off  the  monotony. 

At  the  first  knock,  a  sound,  as  of  persons  fencing  with 
fire-irons,  which  had  until  now  been  very  audible,  sud- 
denly ceased;  and  at  the  second,  a  studious-looking 
young  gentleman  in  green  spectacles,  with  a  very  large 
book  in  his  hand,  glided  quietly  into  the  shop,  and,  step- 
ping behind  the  counter,  requested  to  know  the  visitor's 
])leasure. 

*'I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
^'but  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  direct  me  to — " 

Ha!  hal  ha!"  roared  the  studious  young  gentleman, 
throwing  the  large  book  up  into  the  air,  and  catching  it 
with  great  dexterity  at  the  very  moment  when  it  threat- 
ened to  smash  to  atoms  all  the  bottles  on  the  counter. 

Here's  a  start!" 

There  was,  without  doubt;  for  Mr.  V/inklewasso  very 
much  astonished  at  the  extraordinary  behaviour  of  the 
medical  gentleman,  that  he  involuntarily  retreated 
towards  the  door,  and  looked  very  much  disturbed  at 
his  strange  reception.  * 

What,  don't  you  know  me?  "  said  the  medical  gentle- 
man. 

Mr.  Winkle  murmured,  in  reply,  that  he  had  not  that 
pleasure. 

'•Why,  then,"  said  the  medical  gentleman,  there  are 
hopes  for  me  yet;  I  may  attend  half  the  old  women  inBris- 
tolif  I've  decent  luck.  Get  out,  you  mouldy  old  villaii), 
get  oufc!  "  With  this  adjuration,  which  was  address(^(l  to 
the  large  book,  the  medical  gentleman  kicked  the  volume 
with  remarkable  agility  to  the  further  end  of  the  s]io]>, 
and  pulling  off  his  green  spectacles,  grinned  the  idc^nti- 
cal  grin  of  Robert  Sawyer,  Esquire,  formerly  of  Guy's 
Hospital  in  the  Borough,  with  a  private*  residence  in 
Lant  Street. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  weren't  down  upon  mt^!  " 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  shaking  Mr.  Winkle's  hand  with 
friendly  warmth. 


144 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


'^'Upon  my  word,  I  was  not/'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  re- 
turning the  pressure. 

1  wonder  you  didn't  see  the  name,"  said  Bob  Saw- 
yer, calling  his  friend's  attention  to  the  outer  door,  on 
which,  in  the  same  white  paint,  were  traced  the  words, 
"  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf." 

It  never  caught  my  eye,"  returned  Mr.  Winkle. 

Lord,  if  I  had  known  who  you  were,  I  should  have 
rushed  out,  and  caught  you  in  my  arms,"  said  Bob  Saw- 
yer; but,  upon  my  life,  I  thought  you  were  the  King's- 
taxes  " 

^^No!"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

^^I  did,  indeed,"  responded  Bob  Sawyer,  '^and  I  was 
just  going  to  say  that  I  wasn't  at  home,  but  if  you'd 
leave  a  message  Pd  be  sure  to  give  it  to  myself;  for  he 
don't  know  me:  no  more  does  the  Lighting  and  Paving. 
I  think  the  Church-rates  guesses  who  I  am,  and  I  know 
the  Water-works  does,  because  I  drew  a  tooth  of  his 
when  I  first  came  down  here.  But  come  in,  come  in!  " 
Chattering  in  this  way,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  pushed  Mr. 
Winkle  into  the  back  room,  where,  amusing  himself  by 
boring  little  circular  caverns  in  the  chimney-piece  with 
a  red-hot  poker,  sat  no  less  a  person  than  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen. 

Well,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  ^Hhis  is  indeed  a  pleasure 
that  I  did  not  expect.    What  a  very  nice  place  you  have 

here!" 

Pretty  well,  pretty  well,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  ''I 
passed  soon  after  that  precious  party,  and  my  friends 
came  down  with  the  needful  for  this  business;  so  I  put 
on  a  black  suit  of  clothes,  and  a  pair  of  spectacles,  and 
came  here,  to  look  as  solemn  as  I  could." 

And  a  very  snug  little  business  you  have,  no  doubt?  " 
said  Mr.  Winkle,  knowingly. 

<^  Very,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  So  snug,  that  at  the 
end  of  a  few  years  you  might  put  all  the  profits  in  a 
wine  glass,  and  cover  'em  over  with  a  gooseberry  leaf." 

''You  can't  surely  mean  that?"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 
''The  stock^itself— " 

"Dummies,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Bob  Sawyer;  "half 
the  drawers  have  got  nothing  in  'em,  and  the  other  half 
don't  open." 

"  Nonsense!  "  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

^'Fact — honour!"  returned  Bob  Sawyer,  stepping  out 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


145 


into  the  shop,  and  demonstrating  the  veracity  of  the  as- 
sertion by  divers  hard  polls  at  the  little  gilt  knobs  on  tlie 
counterfeit  drawers.  ''Hardly  anything  real  in  the 
shop  but  the  leeches,  and  they  are  second-hand." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  thought  it!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle, 
much  surprised. 

"  I  hope  not,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  "  else  where's  the 
use  of  appearances,  eh?  But  what  will  you  take?  Do 
as  we  do? — that's  right.  Ben,  my  fine  fellow,  put  your 
hand  into  the  cupboard,  and  bring  out  the  patent  di- 
gester." 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  smiled  his  readiness,  and  pro- 
duced from  the  closet  at  his  elbow  a  black  bottle  half 
full  of  brandy. 

"  You  don't  take  water,  of  course?"  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

''Thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  "It's  rather 
early:  I  should  like  to  qualifj^  it,  if  you  have  no  objec- 
tion." 

"None  in  the  least,  if  you  can  reconcile  it  to  your 
conscience,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer;  tossing  off,  as  he 
spoke,  a  glass  of  the  liquor  with  great  relish.  "  Ben,  the 
pipkin! " 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  drew  forth,  from  the  same  hiding- 
place,  a  small  brass  pipkin,  which  Bob  Sawyer  observed 
he  prided  himself  upon,  particularly  because  it  looked 
so  business-like.  The  water  in  the  professional  pipkin 
having  been  make  to  boil,  in  the  course  of  time,  by 
various  little  shovels-ful  of  coal,  which  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
took  out  of  a  practicable  window-seat,  labelled  "Soda 
Water,"  Mr.  Winkle  adulterated  his  brandy;  and  the 
conversation  was  bjRcoming  general,  when  it  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  entrance  into  the  shop  of  a  boy,  in  a 
sober  grey  livery  and  gold-laced  hat,  with  a  small 
covered  basket  under  his  arm:  whom  Mr.  Bob  Sawyei 
immediately  hailed  with,  "  Tom,  you  vagabond,  come 
here." 

The  boy  presented  himself  accordingly. 

"  You've  been  stopping  to  over  all  the  posts  in  Bristol, 
you  idle  young  scamp!"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"No,  sir,  I  haven't,"  replied  the  boy. 

"You  had  better  not!"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  a 
threatening  aspect.  '*  Who  do  you  supposes  will  avvv 
employ  a  professional  man  when  they  see  his  boy  play- 
iAg  at  marbles  iii  the  gutter,  or  flying  the  garter*  in  the 


146  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


horse-road?    Have  you  no  feeling  for  your  profession, 
you  groveller?   Did  you  leave  all  the  medicine?" 
'^Yes,  sir." 

''The  powders  for  the  child,  at  the  large  house  with 
the  new  family,  and  the  pills  to  be  taken  four  times  a 
day  at  the  ill-tempered  old  gentleman's  with  the  2:0  aty 
leg?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  shut  the  door  and  mind  the  shop." 
Come,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  as  the  boy  retired,  things 
are  not  quite  so  bad  as  you  would  have  me  believe  either. 
There  is  so7ne  medicine  to  be  sent  out." 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  peeped  into  the  shop  to  see  that  no 
stranger  was  within  hearing,  and  leaning  forward  to 
Mr.  Winkle,  said  in  a  low  tone: 

"  He  leaves  it  all  at  the  wrong  houses." 

Mr.  Winkle  looked  perplexed,  and  Bob  Sawyer  and 
his  friend  laughed. 

"  Don't  you  see?"  said  Bob;  ''he  goes  up  to  a  house, 
rings  the  area  bell,  pokes  a  packet  of  medicine  without, 
a  direction  into  the  servant's  hand,  and  walks  off.  Ser- 
vant takes  it  into  dining-parlour;  master  opens  it,  aud 
reads  the  label,  '  Draught  to  be  taken  at  bed-time — pills 
as  before — lotion  as  usual — the  powder.  From  Sawyer's, 
late  Nockemorf's.  Physicians'  prescriptions  carefully 
prepared;'  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Shows  it  to  his  wife — 
she  reads  the  label;  it  goes  down  to  the  servants — they 
read  the  label.  Next  day  the  boy  calls:  'Very  sorry — 
his  mistake — immense  business — great  many  parcels  to 
deliver — Mr.  Sawyer's  compliments — late  Nockemorf's.' 
The  name  gets  known;  and  that's  the  thing,  my  boy,  in 
the  medical  way;  bless  your  heart,  old  fellow,  it's  better 
than  all  the  advertising  in  the  world.  We  have  got  one 
.four-ounce  bottle  that's  been  to  half  the  houses  in  Bristol 
and  hasn't  done  yet." 

"Dear  me,  I  see,"  observed  Mr.  Winkle;  "what  an 
excellent  plan!" 

♦  "  Oh,  Ben  and  I  have  hit  upon  a  dozen  such,"  replied 
Bob  Sawyer,  with  great  glee.  "The  lamplighter  has 
eighteenpence  a  week  to  pull  the  night-bell  for  ten  min- 
utes, every  time  he  comes  round;  and  my  boy  always 
rushes  into  church,  just  before  the  psalms,  when  the 
people  have  got  nothing  to  do  but  look  about  'em,  and 
calls  mc  out,  with  horror  and  dismay  depicted  on  his 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


147 


countenance-  'Bless  my  soul/  everybody  says,  ^some- 
body taken  suddenly  ill!  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf,  sent 
for.    What  a  business  that  young  man  has!' " 

At  the  ce?mination  of  this  disclosure  of  some  of  the 
mysteries  of  medicine,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  his  friend, 
Ben  Allen,  threw  themselves  back  in  their  respective 
chairs  and  laughed  boisterously.  When  they  had  en- 
joyed the  joke  to  their  hearts'  Content,  the  discourse 
changed  to  topics  in  which  Mr.  Winkle  was  mere  im- 
mediately interested. 

We  think  we  have' hinted  elsewhere  that  Mr.  Ben- 
jamin Allen  had  a  way  of  becoming  sentimental  after 
brandy.  The  case  is  not  a  peculiar  one,  as  we  ourself 
can  testify:  having,  on  a  few  occasions,  had  to  deal  with 
patients  who  have  been  afflicted  in  a  similar  manner. 
At  this  precise  period  of  his  existence,  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  had  perhaps  a  greater  predisposition  to  maudlin- 
ism  than  he  had  ever  known  before;  the  cause  of  which 
malady  was  briefly  this.  He  had  been  staying  nearly 
three  weeks  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer;  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was 
not  remarkable  for  temperance,  nor  was  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  for  the  ownership  of  a  very  strong  head*  the  con- 
sequence was  that,  during  the  whole  space  of  time  just 
mentioned,  Mr.  Betijamin  Allen  had  been  wavering  be- 
tween intoxication  partial  and  intoxication  complete. 

My  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  taking  advan- 
tage of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  temporary  absence  behind  the 
counter,  whither  he  had  retired  to  dispense  some  of  the 
second-hand  leeches,  previously  referred  to,  ''my  dear 
friend.  I  am  very  miserable." 

Mr.  Winkle  professed  his  heartfelt  regret  to  hear  it, 
and  begged  to  know  whether  he  could  do  anything  to 
alleviate  tlie  sorrows  of  the  suffering  student. 

Nothing,  my  dear  boy — nothing,"  said  Ben.  ''You 
recollect  Arabella,  Winkle — my  sister  Arabella — a  little 
girl,  Winkle,  with  black  eyes — when  we  were  down  at 
Wardle's?  I  don't  know  whether  you  happened  to  notice 
her — a  nice  little  girl,  Winkle.  Perhaps  my  features 
may  recall  her  countenance  to  your  recollection?" 

Mr.  Winkle  required  nothing  to  recall  the  charming 
Arabella  to  his  mind;  and  it  is  rather  fortunate  ho  did 
not,  for  the  features  of  her  brother  Benjamin  would  un- 
questionably liave  proved  but  an  indifferent  refri^slier 
to  his  memory.    lie  answered,  with  as  much  calmness 


148 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


as  he  could  assume,  that  he  perfectly  remembered  the 
young  lady  referred  to,  and  sincerely  trusted  she  was  in 
good  health. 

Our  friend  Bob  is  a  delightful  fellow,  Winkle,"  was 
the  only  reply  of  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 

''Very,"  said  Mr.  Winkle;  not  much  relishing  this 
close  connection  of  the  two  names. 

''I  designed  'em  for*each  other;  they  were  made  for 
each  other,  sent  into  the  world  for  each  other,  born  for 
each  other.  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  setting  down 
his  glass  with  great  emphasis.  '''There's  a  special  des- 
tiny in  the  matter,  my  dear  sir;  there's  only  five  years' 
difference  between  'em,  and  both  their  birthdays  are  in 
August." 

Mr.  Winkle  was  too  anxious  to  hear  what  was  to  fol- 
low to  express  much  wonderment  at  this  extraordinary 
coincidence,  marvellous  as  it  Avas;  so  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
after  a  tear  or  two,  went  on  to  say  that,  notwithstand- 
ing all  his  esteem  and  respect  and  veneration  for  his 
friend,  Arabella  had  unaccountably  and  undutifully 
evinced  the  most  determined  antipathy  t(3  his  person. 

"And  r  think,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  in  conclusion,  "J 
think  there's  a  prior  attachment." 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  the  object  of  it  may  be?" 
asked  Mr.  Winkle,  with  great  trepidation. 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  seized  the  poker;  flourished  it  in  a  war- 
like manner  above  his  head;  inflicted  a  savage  blow  on 
an  imaginary  skull,  and  wound  up  by  saying,  in  a  very 
expressive  manner,  that  he  only  wished  he  could  guess — 
that  was  all. 

"  rd  show  him  what  I  thought  of  him,"  said  Mr.  Ben 
Allen.  And  around  went  the  poker  again,  more  fiercely 
than  before. 

All  this  was,  of  course,  very  soothing  to  the  feelings  of 
Mr.  Winkle,  who  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments; 
but  at  length  mustered  up  resolution  to  inquire  whether 
Miss  Allen  was  in  Kent. 

"No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Ben'  Allen,  laying  aside  the  poker, 
and  looking  very  cunning;  "I  didn't  think  Wardle's 
exactly  the  place  for  a  headstrong  girl;  so,  as  I  am  her 
natural  protector  and  guardian,  our  parents  being  dead, 
I  have  brought  her  dov;^n  into  this  part  of  the  country  to 
spend  a  few  months  at  her  old  aunt's,  in  a  nice,  dull, 
close  place.    I  think  that  will  cure  her;  my  boyj  and  if 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


149 


it  doesn't,  I'll  take  her  abroad  for  a  little  while,  and  see 
what  that'll  do." 

Oh,  the  aunt's  is  in  Bristol,  is  it?"  faltered  Mr.  Winkle. 

''No,  no — not  in  Bristol,"  replied  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  jerk- 
ing his  thumb  over  his  right  shoulder:  ''over  that  way — 
down  there.  But  hush,  here's  Bob.  Not  a  word,  my 
dear  friend:  not  a  word." 

Short  as  this  conversation  was,  it  roused  in  Mr.  Winkle 
the  highest  degree  of  excitement  and  anxiety.  The 
suspected  prior  attachment  rankled  in  his  heart.  Could 
he  be  the  object  of  it?  Could  it  be  for  him  that  the  fair 
Arabella  had  looked  scornfully  on  the  sprightly  Bob 
Sawyer,  or  had  he  a  successful  rival?  He  determined 
to  see  her,  cost  what  it  might;  but  here  an  unsurmount- 
able  objection  presented  itself,  for  whether  the  explana- 
tory "over  the  way,"  and  "down  there,"  of  Mr.  Ben 
Allen,  meant  three  miles  off,  or  thirty,  or  three  hundred, 
he  could  in  no  wise  guess. 

But  he  had  no  opportunity  of  pondering  over  his  love 
just  then,  for  Bob  Sawyer's  return  was  the  immediate 
precursor  of  the  arrival  of  a  meat  pie  from  the  baker's, 
of  which  that  gentleman  insisted  on  his  staying  to  par- 
take. The  cloth  was  laid  by  an  occasional  charwoman, 
who  officiated  in  the  capacity  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's 
housekeeper;  and  a  third  knife  and  fork  having  been 
borrowed  from  the  mother  of  the  boy  in  the  grey  livery 
(for  Mr.  Sawyer's  domestic  arrangements  were  as  yet 
conducted  on  a  limited  scale),  they  sat  down  to  dinner; 
the  beer  being  served  up,  as  Mr.  Sawyer  remarked,  "  in 
its  native  pewter." 

After  dinner  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ordered  in  the  largest 
mortar  in  the  shop,  and  proceeded  to  brew  a  reeking 
jorum  of  rum-punch  therein:  stirring  up  and  amalga- 
mating the  materials  with  a  pestle  in  a  very  creditable 
and  apothecary-like  manner.  Mr.  Sawyer,  being  a  bach- 
elor, had  only  one  tumbler  in  the  house,  which  was  as- 
signed to  Mr.  Winkle  as  a  compliment  to  the  visitor:  Mr. 
Ben  Allen  being  accommodated  with  a  funnel  with  a 
cork  in  the  narrow  end:  and  Bob  Sawyer  contenting  him- 
self with  one  of  those  wide-lipped  crystal  vessels,  in- 
scribed with  a  variety  of  cabalistic  characters,  in  which 
chemists  are  wont  to  measure  out  their  liquid  drugs  in 
compounding  prescriptions.  These  preliminaries  ad- 
justed, the  punch  was  tasted,  and  pronounced  excellent  j 


150  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  it  having  been  arranged  that  Bob  Sawyer  and  Ben 
Allen  should  be  considered  at  liberty  to  fill  twice  to  Mr. 
Winkle's  once,  they  started  fair,  with  great  satisfaction 
and  good-fellowship. 

There  was  no  singing,  because  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  said 
it  wouldn't  look  professional ;  but  to  make  amends  for 
this  deprivation  there  was  so  much  talking  and  laugh- 
ing that  it  might  have  been  heard,  and  very  likely  was, 
at  the  end  of  the  street,  which  conversation  materially 
lightened  the  hours  and  improved  the  mind  of  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer's  boy,  who,  instead  of  devoting  the  evening  to 
his  ordinary  occupation  of  writing  his  name  on  the 
counter  and  rubbing  it  out  again,  peeped  through  the 
glass  door,  and  thus  listened  and  looked  on  at  the  same 
time. 

The  mirth  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  rapidly  rising  into 
the  furious;  Mr.  Ben  Allen  was  fast  relapsing  into  the 
sentimental;  and  the  punch  had  well-nigh  disappeared 
altogether;  when  the  boy,  hastily  running  in,  annbunced 
that  a  young  woman  had  just  come  over  to  say  that 
Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf ,  was  wanted  directly  a  couple 
of  streets  off.  This  broke  up  the  party.  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer, 
understanding  the  message,  after  some  twenty  repeti- 
tions, tied  a  wet  cloth  around  his  head  to  sober  himself, 
and,  having  partially  succeeded,  put  on  his  green  spec- 
tacles and  issued  forth.  Resisting  all  entreaties  to  stay 
till  he  came  back,  and  finding  it  quite  impossible  to  en- 
gage Mr.  Ben  Allen  in  any  intelligible  conversation  on 
the  subject  nearest  his  heart,  or  indeed  on  any  other, 
Mr.  Winkle  took  his  departure,  and  returned  to  the 
Bush. 

The  anxiety  of  his  mind  and  the  numerous  meditations 
which  Arabella  had  awakened  prevented  his  share  of  the 
mortar  of  punch  producing  that  effect  upon  him  which 
it  would  have  had  under  other  circumstances.  So,  after 
taking  a  glass  of  soda-water  and  brandy  at  the  bar,  he 
turned  into  the  coffee-room,  dispirited  rather  than  ele- 
vated by  the  occurrences  of  the  evening. 

Sitting  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  his  back  towards  him, 
Was  a  tallish  gentleman  in  a  great  coat  :  the  only  other 
occupant  of  the  room.  It  was  rather  a  cool  evening  for 
the  season  of  the  year,  and  the  gentleman  drew  his 
chair  aside  to  afford  the  new-comer  a  sight  of  the  fire. 
What  were  Mr.  Winkle's  feelings  when,  in  so  doing,  he 


CONVIVIALITY  AT  BOB  SAWYER's. 


Pickwick  Papers. 


THE  PICICWICK  CLUB.  L51 

disclosed  to  view  the  face  and  figure  of  the  vindictive 
and  sanguinary  Dowler ! 

Mr.  Winkle's  first  impulse  was  to  give  a  violent  pull 
at  the  nearest  bell-handle,  but  that  unfortunately  hap- 
pened to  be  immediately  behind  Mr.  Dowler's  head.  He 
had  made  one  step  towards  it  before  he  checked  himself. 
As  he  did  so,  Mr  Dowler  very  hastily  drew  back. 

'•Mr.  Winkle,  sir.  Be  calm.  Don't  strike  me.  I 
won't  bear  it.  A  blow  !  Never  ! "  said  Mr.  Dowler. 
looking  meeker  than  Mr.  Winkle  had  expected  in  a 
(gentleman  of  his  ferocity. 

A  blow,  sir  ?'  stammered  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  A  blow,  sir,"  replied  Dowler.  "  Compose  your  feel- 
ings.   Sit  down.    Hear  me." 

''Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  from  head  to  foot, 

before  I  consent  to  sit  down  beside  or  opposite  you, 
without  the  presence  of  a  waiter,  I  must  be  secured 
by  some  further  understanding.  You  used  a  threat 
against  me  last  night,  sir  —  a  dreadful  threat,  sir.' 
Here  Mr.  Winkle  turned  very  pale  indeed,  and  stopped 
Bliort. 

''I did,"  said  Dowler,  with  a  countenance  almost  as 
white  as  Mr.  Winkle's.  "  Circumstances  were  suspicious. 
They  have  been  explained.  I  respect  your  bravery. 
Your  feeling  is  upright.  Conscious  innocence.  There's 
iny  hand.    Grasp  it." 

'•  Really,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hesitating  whether  to 
give  his  hand  or  not,  and  almost  fearing  that  it  was 
demanded  in  order  that  he  might  be  taken  at  an  advan- 
tage, "  really,  sir,  I — " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  interposed  Dowler.  "  You 
feel  aggrieved.  Very  natural.  So  should  I.^  I  Avas 
wro*ig.  I  beg  your  pardon.  Be  friendly.  Forgive  mo.'' 
Witli  this  Dowler  fairly  forced  his  hand  upon  Mr. 
Winkle,  and  shaking  it  with  the  utmost  vehemence,  de- 
clared he  was  a  fellow  of  extreme  spirit,  and  he  had  ^^ 
higher  opinion  of  him  than  ever. 

*'  Now,"  said  Dowler,  "  sit  down.  Relate  it  all.  How 
did  vou  find  me  ?  When  did  you  follow  ?  Be  frank. 
Tellme." 

'•It's  quite  accidental,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  greatly 
peri)lexed  by  the  curious  and  unexpected  nature  of  the 
interview;  '"quite." 

"  Glad  of  it,  "  said  Dowler.    "  I  woke  this  morning. 


152 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


I  had  forgotten  my  threat.  I  laughed  at  the  accident. 
I  felt  friendly.    I  said  so." 

"  To  whom  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle. 

^^To  Mrs.  Dowler.    '  You  made  a  vow/  said  she. 
did/ said  I.    'It  was  a  rash  one/  said  she.    'It  was/ 
said  I.    I'll  apologize.    Where  is  he  ? '  " 

"  Who  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  You/'  replied  Dowler.  "  I  went  down  stairs.  You 
were  not  to  be  found.  Pickwick  looked  gloomy.  Shook 
his  head.  Hoped  no  violence  would  be  committed.  I  saw 
it  all.  You  felt  yourself  insulted.  You  had  gone  for 
a  friend,  perhaps.  Possibly  for  pistols.  '  High  spirit/ 
said  I.    '  I  admire  him.' " 

Mr.  Winkle  coughed,  and  beginning  to  see  how  the 
land  lay,  assumed  a  look  of  importance. 

"  I  left  a  note  for  you,"  resumed  Dowler.  "  I  said  I 
was  sorry.  So  I  was.  Pressing  business  called  me 
here.  You  were  not  satisfied.  You  followed.  You  re- 
quired a  verbal  explana.tion.  You  were  right.  It's  all 
over  now.  My  business  is  finished.  I  go  back  to- 
morrow.   Join  me." 

As  Dowler  progressed  in  his  explanation,  Mr.  Winkle's 
countenance  grew  more  and  more  dignified.  The  myste- 
rious nature  of  the  commencement  of  their  conversation 
was  explained;  Mr.  Dowler  had  as  great  an  objection  to 
duelling  as  himself;  in  short,  this  blustering  and  awful 
personage  was  one  of  the  most  egregious  cowards  in 
existence,  and  interpreting  Mr.  Winkle's  absence 
through  the  medium  of  his  own  fears,  had  taken  the 
same  step  as  himself,  and  prudently  retired  until  all 
excitement  of  feeling  should  have  subsided. 

As  the  real  state  of  the  case  dawned  on  Mr.  Winkle's 
mind,  he  looked  very  terrible,  and  said  he  was  perfectly 
satisfied;  but  at  the  same  time  said  so  with  an  air  that 
left  Mr.  Dowler  no  alternative  but  to  infer  that  if  he 
had  not  been,  something  most  horrible  and  destructive 
must  inevitably  have  occurred.  Mr.  Dowler  appeared 
to  be  impressed  with  a  becoming  sense  of  Mr.  Winkle's 
magnanimity  and  condescension;  and  the  two  belliger- 
ents parted  for  the  night  with  many  protestations  of 
eternal  friendship. 

About  half -past  twelve  o'clock,  when  Mr.  V/inkle  had 
been  revelling  some  twenty  minutes  in  the  full  luxury 
of  his  first  sleep,  he  was  suddenly  awakened  by  a  loud 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


153 


knocking  at  his  chamber  door,  which,  being  repeated 
with  great  vehemence,  caused  him  to  start  up  in  bed  and 
inquire  who  was  there,  and  what  the  matter  was. 

"  Please,  sir,  here's  a  young  man  which  says  he  must 
see  you  directly,"  responded  the  voice  of  the  chamber- 
maid. 

"  A  young  man  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  No  mistake  about  that  'ere  sir,"  replied  another 
voice  through  the  key-hole;  and  if.  that  worry  same  in- 
terestin'  young  creetur  '  ain't  let  in  vithout  delay,  it's 
worry  possible  as  his  legs  vill  enter  afore  his  counte- 
nance." The  young  man  gave  a  gentle  kick  at  one  of 
the  lower  panels  of  the  door,  after  he  had  given  utter- 
ance to  this  hint,  as  if  to  add  force  and  point  to  the 
remark. 

Is  that  you,  Sam  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  springing 
out  of  bed. 

"  Quite  unpossible  to  identify  any  gen'l'm'n  vith  any 
degree  'o  mental  satisfaction  vithout  looking  at  him, 
sir,"  replied  the  voice,  dogmatically. 

Mr.  Winkle,  not  much  doubting  who  the  young  man 
was,  unlocked  the  door;  which  he  had  no  sooner  done 
than  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  entered  with  great  precipita- 
tion, and  carefully  relocking  it  on  the  inside,  deliber- 
ately put  the  key  in  his  waiscoat  pocket;  and,  after 
surveying  Mr.  Winkle  from  head  to  foot,  said  : 

^'You're'  a  worry  humourous  young  gen'l'm'n,  you 
air,  sir  ! " 

What  do  you  mean  by  this  conduct,  Sam  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Winkle,  indignantly.  '^Get  out,  sir,  this  instant. 
What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

"  What  do  J  mean,"  retorted  Sam;  come,  sir,  this  is 
rayther  too  rich,  as  the  young  lady  said  when  she  re- 
monstrated with  the  pastry-cook,  arter  he'd  sold  her  a 
pork-pie  as  had  got  nothiii'  but  fat  inside.  What  do  / 
mean  !    Well,  that  ain't  a  bad  'un,  that  ain't." 

Unlock  that  door,  and  leave  this  room  immediately, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

''I  shall  leave  this  here  room,  sir,  just  precisely  at 
the  worry  same  moment  as  you  leaves  it,"  respondcnl 
Sam,  speaking  in  a  forcible  manner,  and  seating  liim- 
self  with  perfect  gravity.  ^'If  I  find  it  necessary  to 
carry  you  away,  pick-a-l)ack,  'o  course  I  shall  leave  it 
the  least  bit  'o  time  possible  afore  you;  but  allow  me  to 


154  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


express  a  hope  as  you  won't  reduce  me  to  ex-tremities: 
in  saying  wich,  I  merely  quote  wot  the  nobleman  said 
to  the  fractious  pennywinkle,  ven  he  vouldn't  come  out 
of  his  shell  by  means  of  a  pin,  and  he  conseqvently  be- 
gan to  be  afeerd  that  he  should  be  obliged  to  crack 
him  in  the  parlour  door."  At  the  end  of  this  address, 
which  was  unusually  lengthy  for  him,  Mr.  Weller 
planted  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  looked  full  in  Mr. 
Winkle's  face,  with  an  expression  of  countenance  which 
showed  that  he  had  hot  the  remotest  intention  of  being 
trifled  with. 

You're  a  amiably  disposed  young  man,  sir,  I  don't 
think,"  resumed  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  tone  of  moral  reproof, 
''  to  go  inwolving  our  precious  governor  in  all  sorts  o' 
fanteegs,  wen  he's  made  up  his  mind  to  go  through 
every  think  for  principle.  You're  far  worse  nor  Dod- 
son,  sir;  and  as  for  Fogg,  I  consider  him  a  born  angel 
to  you!"  Mr.  Weller  having  accompanied  this  last  senti- 
ment with  an  emphatic  slap  on  each  knee,  folded  his 
arms  with  a  look  of  great  disgust,  and  threw  himself 
back  in  his  chair,  as  if  waiting  the  criminal's  defence. 

''My  good  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  extending  his 
hand;  his  teeth  chattering  all  the  time  he  spoke,  for  he 
had  been  standing  during  the  whole  of  Mr.  Weller's 
lecture  in  his  night-gear.  ''My  good  fellow,  I  respect 
your  attachment  to  my  excellent  friend,  and  I  am  very 
sorry  indeed,  to  have  added  to  his  causes  for*  disquiet. 
There,  Sam,  there!" 

''  Well,"  said  Sam,  rather  sulkily,  but  giving  the  prof- 
fered hand  a  respectful  shake  at  the  same  time;  "well, 
so  you  ought  to  be,  and  I'm  very  glad  to  find  you  are; 
for,  if  I  can  help  it,  I  won't  have  him  put  upon  by  no- 
body, and  that's  all  about  it." 

"Certainly  not,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "There! 
Now  go  to  bed,  Sam,  and  we'll  talk  further  about  this, 
in  the  morning." 

''  Pm  werry  sorry,"  said  Sam,  ^'but  I  can't  go  to  bed." 

"  Not  go  to  bed!"  repeated  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  No,"  said  Sam,  shaking  his  head.    "  Can't  be  done." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  back  to-night, 
Sam,"  urged  Mr.  Winkle,  greatly  surprised. 

"Not  unless  you  particklerly  wish  it."  replied  Sam: 
"but  I  mustn't  leave  this  here  room.  The  governor's 
orders  wos  peremptory." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


155 


^'  Nonsense,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "  I  must  stop  here 
two  or  three  days;  and  more  than  that,  Sam,  jou 
must  stop  here  too,  to  assist  me  in  gaining  an  inter- 
view with  a  young  lady — Miss  Allen,  Sam;  you  remem- 
ber her — whom  I  must  and  will  see  before  I  leave 
Bristol." 

But  in  reply  to  each  of  these  positions  .Sam  shook  his 
head  with  great  firmness,  and  energetically  replied:  It 
can't  be  done." 

After  a  great  deal  of  argument  and  representation  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  Winkle,  however,  and  a  full  disclosure 
of  what  had  passed  in  the  interview  with  Dowler,  Sam 
b(^gau  to  waver:  and  at  length  a  compromise  was 
eiiected,  of  which  the  following  were  the  main  and  prin- 
cipal conditions: 

That  Sam  should  retire,  and  leave  Mr.  Winkle  in  the 
undisturbed  possession  of  his  apartment,  on  condition 
that  he  had  permission  to  lock  tiie  door  on  the  outside, 
and  carry  off  the  key;  provided  alwa.ys,  that  in  the 
event  of  an  alarm  of  fire,  or  other  dangerous  con- 
tiii^Micy,  the  door  should  be  instantly  unlocked.  That 
a  letter  should  be  written  to  Mr.  Pickwick  earlv  next 
morning,  and  forwarded  per  Dowler,  requesting  his 
consent  to  Sam  and  Mr.  Winkle's  remaining  at  Bristol, 
for  the  purpose,  and  with  the  object,  already  assigned, 
and  begging  an  answer  by  the  next  coach;  if  favourable, 
the  aforesaid  parties  to  remain  accordingly,  and  if  not, 
to  return  to  Bath  immediately  on  the  receipt  thereof. 
And,  lastly,  that  Mr.  Winkle  should  be  understood  as 
distinctly  pledi^-ing  himself  not  to  resort  to  the  window, 
fire-place,  or  other  surreptitious  mode  of  escape  in  the 
meanwhile.  These  stipulations  having  been  concluded, 
Sam  locked  the  door  and  departed. 

He  liad  nearly  got  down  stairs,  when  Jie  stopped,  and 
drew  the  key  fi^om  his  pocket. 

I  quite  forgot  about  the  knockin'  down,"  said  Sam, 
lialf  turning  back.  ''The  governor  distinctly  said  it 
wos  to  be  done;  amazin'  stupid  o'  me,  that  'ere!  Never 
mind,"  said  Sam,  brightening  uj),  it's  easily  done  to- 
•norrow,  anyvays." 

A]>par(^ntly  much  consoled  by  this  lefiection,  Mr. 
W(^1]er  once  more  deposited  the  key  in  hi  >  i)Ocket,  and 
dc'sccnding  the  n^mainder  of  t'^e  s'airs  without  any 
fresh  visitations  of  conscience;  was  sujn,  in  common 


156  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


with  the  other  inmates  of  the  house,  buried  in  profound 
repose. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MR.  SAMUEL  WELLER,  BEING  ENTRUSTED  WITH  A  MISSION 
OF  LOVE,  PROCEEDS  TO  EXECUTE  IT;  WITH  WHAT  SUC- 
CESS WILL  HEREINAFTER  APPEAR. 

During  the  whole  of  next  day,  Sam  kept  Mr.  Winkle 
steadily  in  sight,  fully  determined  not  to  take  his  eyes 
off  him  for  one  instant,  until  he  should  receive  express 
instructions  from  the  fountain-head.  However  dis- 
agreeable Sam's  very  close  watch  and  great  vigilance 
were  to  Mr.  Winkle,  he  thought  it  better  to  bear  with  them 
than,  by  any  act  of  violent  opposition,  to  hazard  being 
carried  away  by  force,  which  Mr.  Weller  more  than 
once  strongly  hinted  was  the  line  of  conduct  that  a 
strict  sense  of  duty  prompted  him  to  pursue.  There  is 
little  reason  to  doubt  that  Sam  would  very  speedily  have 
quieted  his  scruples,  by  bearing  Mr.  Vfinkle  back  to 
Bath,  bound  hand  and  foot,  had  not  Mr.  Pickwick's 
prompt  attention  to  the  note,  which  Dowler  had  under- 
taken to  deliver,  forestalled  any  such  proceeding.  In 
short,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Pickwick 
himself  walked  into  the  coffee-room  of  the  Bush  tavern, 
and  told  Sam  with  a  smile,  to  his  great  relief,  that  he 
had  done  quite  right,  and  it  was  unnecessary  for  him  to 
mount  guard  any  longer. 

I  thought  it  better  to  come  myself,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, addressing  Mr.  Winkle,  as  Sam  disencumbered 
him  of  his  great-coat  and  travelling  shawl,  -'to  ascer- 
tain, before  I  gave  my  consent  to  Sam's  employment  in 
this  matter,  that  you  are  quite  in  earnest  and  serious, 
with  respect  to  this  young  lady." 

''Serious,  from  my  heart — from  my  soul !  *'  returned 
Mr.  Winkle,  with  energy. 

"  Remember,"  said  Mr..  Pickwick,  with  beaming  eyes, 
'^we  met  her  at  our  excellent  and  hospitable  friend's, 
Winkle.  It  would  be  an  ill  return  to  tamper^  lightly, 
and  without  due  consideration,  with  this  young  lady's 
affections.    I'll  not  allow  that,  sir — I'll  not  allow  it." 

^'l  have  no  such  intention,  indeed/'  exclaimed  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


157 


Winkle,  warmly.  ^^I  have  considered  the  matter  well, 
for  a  long  time,  and  I  feel  that  my  happiness  is  bomid 
up  in  her." 

"  That's  wot  we  call  tying  it  up  in  a  small  parcel,  sir,'' 
interposed  Mr.  Weller,  with  an  agreeable  smile. 

Mr.  Winkle  looked  somewhat  stern  at  this  interruption, 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  angrily  requested  his  attendant  not 
to  jest  with  one  of  the  best  feelings  of  our  nature ;  to 
which  Sam  replied,  '^That  he  wouldn't,  if  he  was  aware 
on  it;  but  there  was  so  many  on  'em,  that  he  hardly 
know'd  which  was  the  best  ones  wen  he  heard  'em  men- 
tioned." 

Mr.  Winkle  then  recounted  what  had  passed  between 
himself  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  relative  to  Arabella  ;  stated 
that  his  object  was  to  gain  an  interview  with  the  young 
lady,  and  make  a  formal  disclosure  of  his  passion  ;  and 
declared  his  conviction,  founded  on  certain  dark  hints 
and  mutterings  of  the  aforesaid  Ben,  that,  wherever  she 
was  at  present  immured,  it  was  somewhere  near  the 
Downs.  And  this  was  his  whole  stock  of  knowledge  or 
suspicion  on  the  subject. 

With  this  very  slight  cTue  to  guide  him,  it  was  deter- 
mined that  Mr.  Weller  should  start  next  morning  on  an 
expedition  of  discovery;  it  was  also  arranged  that  Mr. 
Pickvv^ick  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  were  less  confident  of 
their  powers,  should  parade  the  town  meanwhile,  and 
accidentally  drop  in  upon  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  or  hearing  something  of 
the  young  lady's  whereabout. 

Accordingly,  next  morning,  Sam  Weller  issued  forth 
upon  his  quest,  in  no  way  daunted  by  the  very  discour- 
aging prospect  before  him;  and  away  he  walked,  up  one 
street  and  down  another — we  were  going  to  say,  up  one 
hill  and  down  another,  only  it's  all  uphill  at  Clifton — 
without  meeting  with  anything  or  anybody  that  tended 
to  throw  the  faintest  light  upon  the  matter  in  hand. 
Many  were  the  colloquies  into  which  Sam  entered  with 
grooms  who  were  airing  horses  on  roads,  and  nurse- 
maids who  were  airing  children  in  lanes  ;  but  nothing 
could  Sam  elicit  from  either  the  first  mentioned  or  the 
last,  which  bore  the  slightest  reference  to  the  object  of 
his  artfully  prosecutcnl  inquiries.  There  weri^  a  ^rjoat 
many  young  ladies  in  a  gr(^at  many  houses,  the  greater 
part  whereof  were  shrewdly  suspected  by  the  male  and 


158  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


female  domestics  to  be  deeply  attached  to  somebody,  or 
perfectly  ready  to  become  so,  if  opportunity  offered. 
But  as  none  among  these  young  ladies  was  Miss  Arabella 
Allen,  the  information  left  Sam  at  exactly  the  old  point 
of  wisdom  at  which  he  had  stood  before. 

Sam  struggled  across  the  Downs  against  a  good  high 
wind,  wondering  whether  it  was  always  necessary  to 
hold  your  hat  on  with  both  hands  in  that  part  of  the 
country,  and  came  to  a  shady  by -place,  about  which 
were  sprinkled  several  little  villas  of  quiet  and  secluded 
appearance.  Outside  a  stable-door,  at  the  bottom  of  a 
long  back  lane  without  a  thoroughfare,  a  groom  in 
undress  was  idling  about,  apparently  persuading  him- 
self that  he  was  doing  something  with  a  spade  and  a 
wheelbarrow.  We  may  remark,  in  this  place,  that  we 
have  scarcely  ever  seen  a  groom  near  a  stable,  in  his 
lazy  moments,  who  has  not  been,  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent,  the  victim  of  this  singular  delusion. 

Sam  thought  he  might  as  well  talk  to  this  groom  as 
to  any  one  else,  especially  as  he  was  very  tired  with 
walking,  and  there  was  a  good  large  stone  just  opposite 
the  wheelbarrow;  so  he  strolled  down  the  lane,  and, 
seating  himself  on  the  stone,  opened  a  conversation  with 
the  ease  and  freedom  for  which  he  was  remarkable. 

^^Mornin',  old  friend,"  said  Sam. 
Afternoon,  you  mean,"  replied  the  groom,  casting  a 
surly  look  at  Sam. 

"  You're  worry  right,  old  friend,"  said  Sam;  I  do  mean 
afternoon.    How  are  you?" 

"  Why,  I  don't  find  myself  much  the  better  for  seeing 
of  you,"  replied  the  ill-tempered  groom. 

That's  worry  odd — that  is,"  said  Sam,  ^^for  you  look 
so  uncommon  cheerful,  and  seem  altogether  so  lively, 
that  it  does  vun's  heart  good  to  see  you." 

The  surly  groom  looked  surlier  still  at  this,  but  not 
sufficiently  to  produce  any  effect  upon  Sam,  who  imme- 
diately inquired,  with  a  countenance  of  great  anxiety, 
whether  his  master's  name  was  not  Walker. 
No,  it  ain't,"  said  the  groom. 
Nor  Brown,  I  s'pose?"  said  Sam. 

^^No,  it  ain't." 

'^Nor  Vilson?" 

''No;  nor  that  neither,"  said  the  groom. 

''Veil,"  replied  Sam,  "then  I'm  mistaken^,  and  he 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


159 


hasn't  got  the  honour  o'  my  acquaintance,  which  I 
thought  he  had.  Don't  wait  here  out  o'  compliment  to 
me,"  said  Sam,  as  the  groom  wheeled  in  the  barrow, 
and  prepared  to  shut  the  gate.  Ease  afore  ceremony, 
old  boy;  I'll  excuse  you." 

"Vd  knock  your  head  off  for  half-a-crown,"  said  the 
surly  groom,  bolting  one-half  of  the  gate. 

Couldn't  afford  to  have  it  done  on  those  terms," 
rejoined  Sam.  It  'ud  be  worth  a  life's  board  vages,  at 
least,  to  you,  and  'ud  be  cheap  at  that.  Make  my  com- 
pliments in-door's.  Tell  'em  not  to  vait  dinner  for  me, 
and  say  they  needn't  mind  puttin'  any  by,  for  it'll  be 
cold  afore  I  come  in." 

In  reply  to  this  the  groom,  Avaxing  very  wroth,  mut- 
tered a  desire  to  damage  somebody's  person;  but  disap- 
peared without  carrying  it  into  execution:  slamming 
the  door  angrily  after  him,  and  wholly  unheeding  Sam's 
affectionate  request,  that  he  would  leave  him  a  lock  of 
his  hair,  before  he  went. 

Sam  continued  to  sit  on  the  large  stone,  meditating 
upon  what  was  best  to  be  done,  and  revolving  in  his 
mind  a  plan  for  knocking  at  all  the  doors  within  five 
miles  of  Bristol:  taking  them  at  a  hundred  and  fifty  or 
two  hundred  a  day,  and  endeavoring  to  find  Miss  Ara- 
bella by  that  expedient:  when  accident,  all  of  a  sudden, 
threw  in  his  way  what  he  might  have  sat  there  for  a 
twelvemonth  and  yet  not  found  without  it. 

Into  the  lane  where  he  sat  there  opened  three  or  four 
garden-gates,  belonging  to  as  many  houses,  which, 
though  detached  from  each  other,  were  only  separated 
by  their  gardens.  As  these  were  large  and  long,  and 
well  planted  with  trees,  the  houses  were  not  only  at 
some  distance  off,  but  the  greater  part  of  them  were 
nearly  concealed  from  view.  Sam  was  sitting  with  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  dust-heap,  outside  the  next  gate  to 
tliat  by  which  the  groom  had  disai)peared,  profoundly 
turning  over  in  his  mind  the  difficulties  of  his  present 
undertaking,  when  the  gate  opened,  and  a  female  ser- 
vant came  out  into  the  lane  to  shake  some  bed-side 
carpets. 

Sam  was  so  very  busy  with  his  own  thoughts  that  it 
is  probable  he  would  have  taken  no  more  notice  of  the 
young  woman  than  just  raising  his  head  and  remai-king 
that  she  had  a  very  neat  and  pretty  figure,  if  his  feelings 


160 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


of  gallantry  had  not  been  most  strongly  roused  by 
observing  that  she  had  no  one  to  help  her,  iand  that  the 
carpets  seemed  too  heavy  for  her  single  strength.  Mr. 
W eller  was  a  gentleman  of  great  gallantry  in  his  own 
way,  and  he  no  sooner  remarked  this  circumstance  than 
he  hastily  rose  from  the  large  stone,  and  advanced 
towards  her. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Sam,  sliding  up  with  an  air  of  great 
respect,  ''you'll  spile  that  werry  pretty  figure  out  o'  all 
proportion  if  you  shake  them  carpets  by  yourself.  Let 
me  help  you." 

The  young  lady,  who  had  been  coyly  affecting  not  to 
know  that  a  gentleman  was  so  near,  turned  round  as 
Sam  spoke — no  doubt  (indeed  she  said  so,  afterwards)  to 
decline  this  offer  from  a  perfect  stranger — when,  instead 
of  speaking,  she  started  back,  and  uttered  a  half -sup- 
pressed scream.  Sam  was  scarcely  less  staggered,  for 
in  the  countenance  of  the  well-shaped  femrJe  servant 
he  beheld  the  very  features  of  his  Valentine:  the  pretty 
housemaid  from  Mr.  Nupkins's. 
Wy,  Mary,  my  dear!"  said  Sam. 

^'Lauk,  Mr.  Weller/'  said  Mary,  ''how  you  do  frighten 
one!" 

Sam  made  no  verbal  answer  to  this  complaint,  nor  can 
we  precisely  say  what  reply  he  did  make.  We  merely 
know  that  after  a  short  pause  Mary  said,  "Lor,  do  adun, 
Mr.  Weller!"  and  that  his  hat  had  fallen  off  a  few 
moments  before — from  both  of  which  tokens  we  should 
be  disposed  to  infer  that  one  kiss  or  more  had  passed 
between  the  parties. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  come  here?"  said  Mary,  when  the 
conversation  to  which  this  interruption  had  been  offered 
was  resumed. 

"O'  course  I  came  to  look  after  you,  my  darlin,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Weller;  for  once  permitting  his  passion  to  get 
the  better  of  his  veracity. 

"  And  how  did  you  know  I  was  here?"  inquired  Mary. 
"Who  could  have  told  you  that  I  took  another  service 
at  Ipswich,  and  that  they  afterwards  moved  all  the 
way  here?  Who  could  have  told  you  all  that,  Mr. 
Weller?" 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  Sam  with  a  cunning  look, 
'^  that's  the  pint.    Who  could  ha'  told  me?" 
"  It  wasn't  Mr.  Muzzle,  was  it?"  inquired  Mary. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


IGl 


^^Oh,  no,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  solemn  shake  of  the 
head,     it  warn't  him." 

"  It  must  have  been  the  cook,"  said  Mary. 
''O'  course  it  must,"  said  Sam. 

"Well,  I  never  heard  the  like  of  that!"  exclaimed 
Mary. 

"  No  more  did  I,  '  said  Sam.  But  Mary,  my  dear — " 
iiore  Sam's  manner    grew  extremely    affectionate — 

Mary,  my  dear,  IVe  got  another  affair  in  hand  as  is 
werry  pressin'.  There's  one  o'  my  governor's  friends 
— Mr.  Winkle,  you  remember  him." 

"  Him  in  the  green  coat?"  said  Mary.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  re- 
member him." 

"  Well,"  said  Sam,  he's  in  a  horrid  state  o'  love; 
regularly  comfoozled,  and  done  over  with  it." 
Lor!"  interposed  Mary. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sam;  "  but  that's  nothin'  if  we  could  find 
out  the  young  'ooman;"  and  here  Sam,  with  maiw  di-^ 
gressions  upon  the  personal  beauty  of  Mary,  ana  the 
unspeakable  tortures  he  had  experienced  since  ho  last 
saw  her,  gave  a  faithful  account  of  Mr.  Winkle's  present 
predicament. 

Well!"  said  Mary,  "I  never  did!" 

"  ()'  course  not,"  said  Sam,  "and  nobody  never  did, 
nor  never  vili  neither;  and  here  am  I  a  walkin'  about 
like  the  wandering  Jew — a  sportin'  cliaracter  you  have 
perhaps  heerd  on,  Mary,  my  dear,  as  wos  always  doin'  a 
match  agin'  time,  and  never  vent  to  sleep — looking  arter 
this  here  Miss  Arabella  Allen." 

"  Miss  who?"  said  Mary,  in  great  astonishment. 

"Miss  Arabella  Allen,"  said  Sam. 

"Goodness  gracious!"  said  Mary,  pointing  to  the 
';\irden-door  which  the  sulky  groom  had  locked  after 
him.  "Why,  it's  that  very  house;  she's  been  living 
Iiere  these  six  weeks.  Tlieir  upper  housemaid,  which 
;  lady's  maid  too,  told  me  all  about  it  over  tlu>  wash- 
ouse  palin's  before  the  family  was  out  of  bod,  one 
Morninjj:." 

^*  Wot,  tViO  werry  next  door  to  you?"  said  Sam. 
"  The  very  next,"  replied  Mary. 

Mr.  Weller  was  so  deeply  overcome  on  receiving 
this  intelligence  that  he  found  it  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  cling  to  his  fair  informant  for  support;  and 
divers  little  love  passages  had  passed  between  them 


102 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


before  he  was  sufficiently  collected  to  return  to  the 
subject. 

Veil/'  said  Sam,  at  length,  ''if  this  don't  beat  cock- 
fightin',  nothin'  never  vill,  as  the  Lord  Mayor  said,  ven 
the  chief  secretary  o'  state  proposed  his  missis's  health 
arter  dinner.  That  werry  next  house!  Wy,  I've  got  a 
message  to  her,  as  I've  been  a  tryin'  all  day  to  deliver." 

''Ah,"  said  Mary,  "but  you  can't  deliver  it  now,  be- 
cause she  only  walks  in  the  garden  in  the  evening,  and 
then  only  for  a  very  little  time;  she  never  goes  out  with- 
out the  old  lady." 

Sam  ruminated  for  a  few  moments,  and  finally  hit 
upon  the  following  plan  of  operations:  that  he  should 
return  just  at  dusk — the  time  at  which  Arabella  invari- 
ably took  her  walk — and  being  admitted  by  Mary  into 
the  garden  of  the  house  to  which  she  belonged,  contrive 
to  scramble  up  the  wall  beneath  the  overhanging 
boi^hs  of  a  large  pear  tree,  which  would  effectually 
screen  him  from  observation;  there  deliver  his  message, 
and  arrange,  if  possible,  an  interview  on  behalf  of  Mr. 
Winkle  for  the  ensuing  evening  at  the  same  hour. 
Having  made  this  arrangement  with  great  despatch,  ho 
assisted  Mary  in  the  long-deferred  occupation  of  shaking 
the  carpets. 

It  is  not  half  as  innocent  a  thing  as  it  looks,  that 
shaking  little  pieces  of  carpet — at  least,  there  may  be 
no  great  harm  in  the  shaking,  but  the  folding  is  a  very 
insidious  process.  So  long  as  the  shaking  lasts,  and  the 
two  parties  are  kept  the  carpet's  length  apart,  it  is  as 
innocent  an  amusement  as  can  well  be  devised;  but 
when  the  folding  begins,  and  the  distance  between  them 
gets  gradually  lessened  from  one-half  its  former  length 
to  a  quarter,  and  then  to  an  eighth,  and  then  to  a  six- 
teenth, and  then  to  a  thirty-second,  if  the  carpet  be  long 
enough,  it  becomes  dangerous.  We  do  not  know,  to  a 
nicety,  how  many  pieces  of  carpet  were  folded  in  this 
instance,  but  we  can  venture  to  state  that  as  many 
pieces  as  there  were,  so  many  times  did  Sam  kiss  the 
pretty  housemaid. 

Mr.  Weller  regaled  himself  with  moderation  at  the 
nearest  tavern  until  it  was  nearly  dusk,  and  then  re- 
turned to  the  lane  without  the  thoroughfare.  Having 
been  admitted  into  the  garden  by  Mary",  and  having  re- 
ceived from  that  lady  sundry  admonitions  concerning 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


163 


the  safety  of  his  limbs  and  neck,  Sam  mounted  into 
the  pear  tree  to  wait  until  Arabella  should  come  in 
sight. 

He  waited  so  long  without  this  anxiously  expected 
event  occurring,  that  he  began  to  think  that  it  was  not 
going  to  take  place  at  all,  when  he  heard  light  footsteps 
upon  the  gravel,  and  immediately  afterwards  beheld 
Arabella  walking  pensively  down  the  garden.  As  soon 
as  she  came  nearly  below  the  tree,  Sam  began,  by  way 
of  gently  indicating  his  presence,  to  make  sundry  dia- 
bolical noises  similar  to  those  which  would  probably  be 
natural  to  a  person  of  middle  age  who  had  been  afflicted 
with  a  combination  of  inflammatory  sore  throat,  croup, 
and  whooping-cough  from  his  earliest  infancy. 

Upon  this,  the  young  lady  cast  a.  hurried  glance 
towards  the  spot  from  whence  the  dreadful  sounds  pro- 
ceeded; and  her  previous  alarm  being  not  at  all  di- 
minished when  she  saw  a  man  among  the  branches,  she 
would  most  certainly  have  decamped,  and  alarmed  the 
house,  had  not  fear  fortunately  deprived  her  of  the 
power  of  moving,  and  caused  her  to  sink  down  on  a 
garden  seat:  which  happened  by  good  luck  to  be  near 
at  hand. 

''She's  a  goin' off,"  soliloquized  Sam,  in  great  per- 
j^lexity.  "  Wot  a  thing  it  is,  as  these  here  young  creaturs 
will  go  a  f aintin'  avay  just  v/en  they  oughtn't  to.  Here, 
young'  ooman.  Miss  Sawbones,  Mrs.  Vinkle,  don't !  ' 

Whether  it  was  the  magic  of  Mr.  Winkle's  name  or 
the  coolness  of  the  open  air,  or  some  recollection  of  Mr. 
Wellers  voice,  that  revived  Arabella,  matters  not.  S!io 
raised  her  head  and  languidly  inquired,  ''Wlio's  that, 
and  v/hat  do  you  want  ?  '^ 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Sam,  swinging  himself  on  to  the  wall, 
and  crouching  there  in  as  small  a  compass  as  he  could 
reduce  himself  to;  ''only  mo,  miss,  only  me." 

"Mr.  Pickwick's  servant!"  said  Arabella,  earnestly. 

'^The  worry  same,  miss,"  replied  Sam.  "Here's  Mr. 
Vinkle  reg'larly  sewed  up  vith  desperation,  miss." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Arabella,  drawing  nearer  the  wall. 

"Ah  indeed,"  said  Sam.  Ve  thought  ve  should  ha' 
been  obliged  to  straight-veskit  him  last  night;  he's  been 
a  ravin'  all  dav;  and  he  says  if  he  can't  see  you  afore  to- 
morrow night's  over,  he  vishes  he  may  be  somethin'  un- 
pleasanted  if  he  don't  drownd  liisself." 


ICA 


POSTPIUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Oh,  no,  no,  Mr.  Weller  !"  said  Arabella,  clasping  her 
hands. 

That's  vvTot  he  says,  miss,"  replied  Sam.  ''He's  a 
man  of  his  word,  and  it's  my  opinion  he'll  do  it,  miss. 
He's  heerd  all  about  you  from  the  Sawbones  in  bar- 
nacles," 

"From  my  brother!"  said  Arabella,  having  some 
faint  recognition  of  Sam's  description. 

"  I  don't  rightly  know  which  is  your  brother,  miss," 
replied  Sam.    ''Is  it  the  dirtiest  vun  o'  the  two  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Weller,"  returned  Arabella,  "go  on. 
Make  haste,  pray." 

"Well,  miss,"  said  Sam,  "he's  heerd  all  about  it  from 
him;  and  it'^  the  gov'nor's  opinion  that  if  you  don't  see 
him  werry  quick,  the  Sawbones  as  we  have  been  a 
speakin'  on'ull  get  as  much  extra  lead  in  his  head  as'll 
damage  the  dewelopement  o'  the  orgins  if  they  ever  put 
it  in  spirits  artervards." 

"Oil,  what  can  I  do  to  prevent  these  dreadful  quar- 
rels!" exclaimed  Arabella. 

"It's  the  suspicion  of  a  priory  'tachment  as  is  the 
cause  of  it  all,"  replied  Sam.  "  You  had  better  see  him, 
miss." 

"But  how? — where?"  cried  Arabella.  "I  dare  not 
leave  the  house  alone.  My  brother  is  so  unkind,  so  un- 
reasonable! I  know  how  strange  my  talking  thus  to 
you  must  appear,  Mr.  Weller,  but  I  am  very,  very  un- 
happy—" and  here  poor  Arabella  wept  so  bitterly  that 
Sam  grew  chivalrous. 

"  It  may  seem  werry  strange  talkin'  to  me  about  these 
here  affairs,  miss,"  said  Sam  with  great  vehemence; 
"but  all  I  call  say  is,  that  Fm  not  only  ready  but  villin'  to 
do  anythin' as'll  make  matters  agreeable;  and  if  chuckin' 
either  o'  them  Sawboneses  out  o'  winder'ull  do  it,  I'm 
the  man."  As  Sam  Weller  said  this,  he  tucked  up  his 
wristbands,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  falling  off'  the 
wall  in  so  doing,  to  intimate  his  readiness  to  set  to  work 
immediately. 

Flattering  as  these  professions  of  good  feeling  were, 
Arabella  resolutely  declined  (most  unaccountably,  as 
Sam  thought)  to  avail  herself  of  them.  For  some  ^  time 
she  strenuously  refused  to  grant  Mr.  Winkle  the  inter- 
view Sam  had  so  pathetically  requested;  but  at  length, 
when  the  conversation  threatened  to  be  interrupted  by 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


165 


the  unwelcome  arrival  of  a  third  party,  she  hurriedly 
gave  him  to  understand,  with  many  professions  of  grati- 
tude, that  it  was  barely  possible  she  might  be  in  the 
garden  an  hour  later,  next  evening.  Sam  understood 
this  perfectly  well;  and  Arabella,  bestowing  upon  him  ^ 
one  of  her  sweetest  smiles,  tripped  gracefully  away: 
leaving  Mr.  Weller  in  a  state  of  very  great  admiration 
of  her  charms,  both  personal  and  mental. 

Having  descended  in  safety  from  the  wall,  and  not 
forgotten  to  devote  a  few  moments  to  his  own  particular 
business  in  the  same  department,  Mr.  Weiler  then  made 
the  best  of  his  way  back  to  the  Bush,  where  his  pro- 
longed absence  had  occasioned  much  speculation  and 
some  alarm. 

"  We  must  be  careful,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  listen- 
ing attentively  to  Sam's  tale,  ''not  for  our  own  sakes, 
but  for  that  of  the  young  lady.  We  must  be  very 
cautious." 

"  We!^^  said  Mr.  Winkle,  with  marked  empha^sis. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  momentary  look  of  indignation  at  the 
tone  of  this  remark  subsided  into  his  characteristic  ex- 
pression of  benevolence,  as  he  replied: 

"  We,  sir  I  I  shall  accompany  you." 

"You!"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  mildly.  "  In  affording  you 
this  interview,  the  young  lady  has  taken  a  natural,  per- 
haps, but  still  a  very  imprudent  step.  If  I  am  present 
at  the  meeting — a  mutual  friend,  who  is  old  enough  to 
be  the  fatlier  of  both  parties — the  voice  of  calumny  can 
never  be  raised  against  her  hereafter." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  lightened  with  honest  exultation 
at  his  own  forsight,  as  he  spoke  thus.  Mr.  Winkle  was 
touched  at  this  little  trait  of  his  delicate  respect  for  the 
yowYi^ protegee  of  his  friend,  and  took  his  hand  with  a 
feeling  of  regard  akin  to  veneration. 

"You  shall  go,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Sam,  have  my  great- 
coat and  shawl  readj^,  and  order  a  conveyance  to  be 
at  the  do(jr  to-morrow  evening,  rather  earlier  than  is 
absolutely  necessary,  in  ordcT  that  we  may  be  in  good 
time." 

Mr.  Weller  touched  his  hat  as  an  earnest  of  his  obedi- 
ence, and  withdrew  to  make  all  needful  preparations  for 
the  expedition. 


166 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


The  coach  was  punctual  to  the  time  appointed;  and 
Mr.  Weller,  after  duly  installing  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr. 
Winkle  inside,  took  his  seat  on  the  box  by  the  driver. 
They  alighted,  as  had  been  agreed  on,  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  place  of  rendezvous,  and  desiring  the 
coachman  to  avvait  their  return,  proceeded  the  remain- 
ing distance  on  foot. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  undertaking  that  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  many  smiles  and  various  other  indications 
of  great  self-satisfaction,  produced  from  one  of  his  coat 
pockets  a  dark  lantern,  with  which  he  had  specially  pro- 
vided himself  for  the  occasion,  and  the  great  mechani- 
cal beauty  of  v/hich  he  proceeded  to  explain  to  Mr. 
Winkle,  as  they  walked  along,  to  the  no  small  surprise 
of  the  few  stragglers  they  met. 

I  should  have  been  the  better  for  something  of  this 
kind  in  my  last  garden  expedition,  at  night;  eh,  Sam?" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  good-humouredly  round  at 
his  follower,  who  w^as  trudging  b6)hind. 

Werry  nice  things,  if  they're  managed  properly,  sir," 
replied  Mr.  Weller;  "  but  when  you  don't  want  to  be  seen, 
I  think  they're  more  useful  arter  the  candle's  gone  out, 
than  wen  it's  alight." 

Mr.  Pickwick  appeared  struck  by  Sam's  remark,  for 
he  put  the  lantern  into  his  pocket  again,  and  they  walked 
on  in  silence. 

''Down  here,  sir,"  said  Sam.  Let  me  lead  the  way. 
This  is  the  lane,  sir." 

Down  the  lane  they  went,  and  dark  enough  it  was. 
Mr.  Pickwick  brought  out  the  lantern  once  or  twice  as 
they  groped  their  v\^ay  along,  and  threw  a  very  brilliant 
little  tunnel  of  light  before  them,  about  a  foot  in  diame- 
ter. It  was  very  pretty  to  look  at,  but  seemed  to  have 
the  effect  of  rendering  surrounding  objects  rather  darl^er 
than  before. 

At  length  they  arrived  at  the  large  stone.  Here  Sam 
recommended  his  master  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  seat  them- 
selves while  he  reconnoitred  and  ascertained  whether 
Mary  was  yet  in  waiting. 

After  an  absence  of  five  or  ten  minutes  Sam  returned, 
to  say  that  the  gate  was  opened  and  all  quiet.  Follow- 
ing him  with  stealthy  tread,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr. 
Winkle  soon  found  themselves  in  the  garden.  Here 
everybody  said  ''Hush!"  a  good  many  times;  and  that 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


167 


being  done,  no  one  seemed  to  have  any  very  distinct 
apprehension  of  what  was  to  be  done  next. 

"  Is  Miss  Allen  in  the  garden  yet,  Mary?"  inquired  Mr. 
Winkle,  much  agitated. 

I  don't  know,  sir,"  replied  the  pretty  housemaid. 
^^The  best  thing  to  be  done,  sir,  will  be  for  Mr.  Weller 
to  give  you  a  hoist  up  into  the  tree,  and  perhapa  Mr.  Pick- 
wick will  have  the  goodness  to  see  that  nobody  comes 
up  the  lane,  while  I  watch  at  theother  end  of  the  garden. 
Goodness  gracious,  what's  that?" 

"  That  'ere  blessed  lantern'uU  be  the  death  onus  all," 
exclaimed  Sam,  peevishly.  Take  care  wot  you're  a 
doin'  on,  sir;  you're  a  sendin'  a  blaze  o'  light  right  into 
the  back  parlour  winder." 

^^Dear  me!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  hastily  aside, 

I  didn't  mean  to  do  that." 

^'Now  it's  in  the  next  house,  sir,"  remonstrated  Sam. 
Bless  my  heart!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning 
round  again. 

''Now. it's  in  the  stable,  and  they'll  think  the  place  is  a' 
fire,"  said  Sam.    ''Shut  it  up,  sir,  can't  you?" 

"  It's  the  most  extraordinary  lantern  I  ever  met  with 
in  all  my  life!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  greatly  bewil- 
dered by  the  effects  he  had  so  unintentionally  produced. 
"  I  never  saw  such  a  powerful  reflector." 

"It'll  be  vun  too  powerful  for  us,  if  you  keep  blazin' 
avay  in  that  manner,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  as  Mr.  Pickwick, 
after  various  unsuccessful  efforts,  managed  to  close  the 
slide.  "  There's  the  young  lady's  footsteps.  Now,  Mr. 
Vinkle,  sir,  up  vith  you." 

"  Stop,  stop!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  must  speak  to  her 
first.    Help  me  up,  Sam." 

"  Gently,  sir,"  said  Sam,  planting  his  head  against  the 
wall,  and  making  a  platform  of  his  back.  "  Step  a  top 
o'  that  'ere  flower-pot,  sir.    Now  then,  up  vith  you." 

"  Fm  afraid  I  shall  hurt  you,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Never  mind  me,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  "Lend  him  a 
hand,  Mr.  Vinkle,  sir.  Steady,  sir,  steady.  That's  the 
time  o'  day!" 

As  Sam  spoke  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  exertions  almost 
supernatural  in  a  gentleman  of  his  years  and  weight, 
contrived  to  get  upon  Sam's  back:  and  Sam  gently  rais- 
ing himself  up,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  holding  on  fast  by  the 
top  of  the  wall,  while  Mr,  Winkle  clasped  him  tight  by 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


the  legs,  they  contrived  by  these  means  to  bring  his 
spectacles  just  above  the  level  of  the  coping. 

My  dear/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  over  the  wall, 
and  catching  sight  of  Arabella  on  the  other  side. 

Don't  be  frightened,  my  dear,  'tis  only  me." 

Oh,  pray  go  away,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Arabella. 
*^Tell  them  all  to  go  away.  I  am  so  dreadfully  fright- 
ened. Dear,  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  don't  stop  there.  You'll 
fall  down  and  kill  yourself,  I  know  you  will." 

^^Now,  pray  don't  alarm  yourself,  my  dear,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  soothingly.  There  is  not  the  least  cause  for 
fear,  I  assure  you.  Stand  firm,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
looking  down. 

''All  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  ''  Don't  be  longer 
than  you  can  conweniently  help,  sir.  You're  rayther 
heavy." 

''Only  another  moment,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  merely  wished  you  to  know,  my  dear,  that  I  should 
not  have  allowed  my  young  friend  to  see  you  in  this 
clandestine  way  if  the  situation  in  which  you  are  placed 
had  left  him  any  alternative;  and  lest  tiie  impropriety 
of  this  step  should  cause  you  any  uneasiness,  my  love,  it 
may  be  a  satisfaction  to  you  to  know  that  I  am  present. 
That's  all,  my  dear." 

^'Indeed,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you  for  your  kindness  and  consideration,"  replied  Ara- 
bella, drying  her  tears  with  her  handkerchief.  She 
would  probably  have  said  much  more,  had  not  Mr. 
Pickwick's  head  disappeared  with  great  swiftness,  in 
consequence  of  a  false  step  on  Sam's  shoulder,  which 
brought  him  suddenly  to  the  ground.  He  was  up  again 
in  an  instant,  however;  and  bidding  Mr.  Winkle  make 
haste  and  get  the  interview  over,  ran  out  into  the  lane 
to  keep  watch,  with  all  the  courage  and  ardour  of  a 
youth.  Mr.  Winkle  himself,  inspired  by  the  occasion, 
was  on  the  wall  in  a  moment:  merely  pausing  to  request 
Sam  to  be  careful  of  his  master. 

"  ril  take  care  of  him,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  "Leave 
him  to  me." 

"  Where  is  he?  What's  he  doing,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr. 
Winkle. 

"Bless  his  old  gaiters,"  rejoined  Sam,  looking  out  at 
the  garden  door.  "He's  a  keepin'  guard  in  the  lane 
yith  that  'ere  dark  lantern,  like  a  amiable  Guy  Fawkes! 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


169 


I  never  see  such  a  fine  creetur  in  my  days.  Blessed  if  I 
don't  think  his  heart  must  ha'  been  born  five-and-twenty 
year  arter  his  body,  at  least!" 

"  Mr.  Winkle  stayed  not  to  hear  the  encomium  upon 
his  friend.  He  had  dropped  from  the  wall;  thrown  him- 
self at  Arabella's  feet;  and  by  this  time  was  pleading 
the  sincerity  of  his  passion  with  an  eloquence  worthy 
even  of  Mr.  Pickwick  himself. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  in  the  open  air,  an 
elderly  gentleman  of  scientific  attainments  was  seated 
in  his  library,  two  or  three  houses  off,  writing  a  philo- 
sophical treatise,  and  ever  and  anon  moistening  his  clay 
and  his  labours  with  a  glass  of  claret  from  a  venerable- 
looking  bottle  which  stood  by  his  side.  In  the  agonies 
of  composition,  the  elderly  gentleman  looked  sometimes 
at  the  carpet,  sometimes  at  the  ceiling,  and  sometimes 
at  the  wall;  and  when  neither  carpet,  ceiling,  nor  wall 
afforded  the  requisite  degree  of  inspiration,  he  looked 
out  of  the  window. 

In  one  of  these  pauses  of  invention,  the  scientific  gen- 
tleman was  gazing  abstractedly  on  the  thick  darkness 
outside,  when  he  was  very  much  surprised  by  observing 
a  most  brilliant  light  glide  through  the  air,  at  a  short 
distance  above  the  ground,  and  almost  instantaneously 
vanish.  After  a  short  time  the  phenomenon  was  re- 
peated, not  once  or  twice,  but  several  times:  at  last  the 
scientific  gentleman,  laying  down  his  pen,  began  to 
consider  to  what  natural  causes  these  appearances  were 
to  be  assigned. 

They  were  not  meteors;  they  were  too  low.  They 
were  not  glow-worms;  they  were  too  high.  They  were 
not  will-o'-the-wisps;  they  were  not  fire-flies;  they  were 
not  fire- works.  What  could  they  be?  Some  extraor- 
dinary and  wonderful  phenomenon  of  nature,  which  no 
philosopher  had  ever  seen  before;  something  which  it 
had  been  reserved  for  him  alone  to  discover,  and  which 
he  should  immortalize  his  name  by  chronicling  for  the 
benefit  of  posterity.  Full  of  this  idea,  the  scientific 
gentleman  seized  his  pen  again,  and  committed  to  paper 
sundry  notes  of  these  unparalleled  appearances,  with 
the  date,  day,  hour,  minute,  and  precise  second  at  which 
they  were  visible:  all  of  which  were  to  form  the  data  of 
a  voluminous  treatise,  of  great  research  and  deep  learn- 
ing, which  should  astonish  all  the  atmospherical  sages 


170  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

that  ever  drew  breath  in  any  part  of  the  civilized 
globe. 

He  threw  himself  back  in  his  easy  chair,  wrapped  in 
contemplations  of  his  future  greatness.  The  mysterious 
light  appeared  more  brilliantly  than  before:  dancing,  to 
all  appearances,  up  and  down  the  lane:  crossing  from 
side  to  side,  and  moving  in  an  orbit  as  eccentric  as 
comets  themselves. 

The  scientific  gentleman  was  a  bachelor.  He  had  no 
wife  to  call  in  and  astonish,  so  he  rang  the  bell  for  his 
servant. 

^'Pruffle,"  said  the  scientific  gentleman,  there  is 
something  very  extraordinary  in  the  air  to-night.  Did 
you  see  that?"  said  the  scientific  gentleman,  pointing 
out  of  the  window,  as  the  light  again  became  visible. 

^^Yes,  I  did,  sir." 
What  do  you  think  of  it,  Pruffie?" 

'^Thinkof  it,  sir?" 

"  Yes.  You  have  been  bred  up  in  this  country.  What 
should  you  say  was  the  cause  of  those  lights,  now?  " 

The  scientific  gentleman  smilingly  anticipated  Pruffl^'s 
reply  that  he  could  assign  no  cause  for  them  at  all. 
Pruffle  meditated. 

''I  should  say  it  was  thieves,  sir,"  said  Pruffle,  at 
length. 

''You're  a  fool,  and  may  go  down  stairs,"  said  the 
scientific  gentleman. 

''Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Pruffle.    And  down  he  went. 

But  the  scientific  gentleman  could  not  rest  under  the 
idea  of  the  ingenious  treatise  he  had  projected  being 
lost  to  the  world,  which  must  inevitably  be  the  case,  if 
the  speculation  of  the  ingenious  Mr.  Pruffle  were  not 
stiffed  in  its  birth.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  walked  quickly 
down  the  garden,  determined  to  investigate  the  matter 
to  the  very  bottom. 

Now,  shortly  before  the  scientific  gentleman  walked 
out  into  the  garden,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  run  down  the  lane 
as  fast  as  he  could,  to  convey  a  false  .alarm  that  some- 
body was  coming  that  way:  occasionally  drawing  back 
the  slide  of  the  dark  lantern  to  keep  himself  fiom  the 
ditch.  The  alarm  was  no  sooner  given  than  Mr.  Winkle 
scrambled  back  over  the  wall,  and  Arabella  ran  into  the 
house;  the  garden-gate  was  shut,  and  the  three  adven- 
turers were  making  the  best  of  their  way  down  the  lane. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


m 


when  they  were  startled  by  the  scientific  gentleman  un- 
locking his  garden-gate. 

Hold  hard/'  whispered  Sam,  who  was,  of  course,  the 
first  of  the  party.  Show  a  light  for  just  vun  second, 
sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  Sam  seeing  a 
^  man's  head  peeping  out  very  cautiously,  within  half -a- 
yard  of  his  own,  gave  it  a  gentle  tap  with  his  clenched 
fist,  which  knocked  it,  with  a  hollow  sound,  against  the 
gate.  Having  performed  this  feat  with  great  sudden- 
ness and  dexterity,  Mr.  Weller  caught  Mr.  Pickwick  up 
on  his  back,  and  followed  Mr.  Winkle  down  the  lane, 
at  a  pace  which,  considering  the  burden  he  carried,  was 
perfectly  astonishing. 

"  Have  you  got  your  vind  back  again,  sir?"  inquired 
Sam,  when  they  had  reached  the  end. 

''Quite — quite  now,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Then  come  along,  sir,"  said  Sam,  setting  his  master 
on  his  feet  again.  "Come  betveen  us,  sir.  Not  half  a 
mile  to  run.  Think  you're  vinnin'  a  cup,  sir.  Now  for 
it!" 

Thus  encouraged,  Mr.  Pickwick  made  the  very  best 
use  of  his  legs.  It  may  be  confidently  stated  that  a  pair 
of  black  gaiters  never  got  over  the  ground  in  better 
style  than  did  those  of  Mr.  Pickwick  on  this  memorable 
occasion. 

The  coach  was  waiting,  the  horses  were  fresh,  the  roads 
were  good  and  the  driver  was  willing.  The  whole  party 
arrived  in  safety  at  the  Bush  before  Mr.  Pickwick  had 
recovered  his  breath. 

"  In  with  you  at  once,  sir,"  said  Sam,  as  he  helped  his 
master  out.  "Don't  stop  a  second  in  the  street,  arter 
that  'ere  exercise.  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  continued 
Sam,  touching  his  hat  as  Mr.  Winkle  descended.  "  Hope 
there  warn't  a  priory  'tachment,  sir?" 

Mr.  Winkle  grasped  his  humble  friend  by  the  hand, 
and  whispered  in  his  ear,  "It's  all  right,  Sam;  quite 
right;"  upon  which  Mr.  Weller  struck  three  distinct 
blows  upon  his  nose  in  token  of  intelligence;  smiled, 
winked,  and  proceeded  to  put  the  steps  up,  with  a  coun- 
tenance expressive  of  lively  satisfaction. 

As  to  the  scientific  gentleman,  ho  demonstrated  in  a 
masterly  treatise  that  these  w^onderful  lights  were  tli(^ 
effect  of  electricity;  and  clearly  proved  the  same  by  de- 


172 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


tailing  how  a  flash  of  fire  danced  before  his  eyes  when 
he  put  his  head  out  of  the  gate,  and  how  he  received  a 
shock  which  stunned  him  for  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour 
afterwards;  which  demonstration  delighted  all  the  Sci- 
entific Associations  beyond  measure,  and  caused  him  to 
be  considered  a  light  of  science  ever  afterwards. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

INTRODUCES  MR.  PICKWICK  TO  A  NEW  AND  NOT  UNINTER- 
ESTING SCENE  IN  THE  GREAT  DRAMA  OF  LIFE. 

The  remainder  of  the  period  which  Mr.  Pickwick  had 
assigned  as  the  duration  of  the  stay  at  Bath  passed 
over  without  the  occurrence  of  anything  material. 
Trinity  Term  commenced.  On  the  expiration  of  its  first 
week,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  returned  to  London; 
and  the  former  gentleman,  attended  of  course  by  Sam, 
straightway  repaired  to  his  old  quarters  at  the  George 
and  Vulture. 

On  the  third  morning  after  their  arrival,  just  as  all 
the  clocks  in  the  city  were  striking  nine  individually, 
and  somewhere  about  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
collectively,  Sam  was  taking  the  air  in  George  Yard, 
when  a  queer  sort  of  fresh  painted  vehicle  drove  up,  out 
of  which  there  jumped  with  great  agility,  throwing  the 
reins  to  a  stout  man  who  sat  beside  him,  a  queer  sort  of 
gentleman,  who  seemed  made  for  the  vehicle,  and  the 
vehicle  for  him. 

The  vehicle  was  not  exactly  a  gig,  neither  was  it  a 
stanhope.  It  was  not  what  is  currently  denominated  a 
dog-cart,  neither  was  it  a  taxed-cart,  nor  a  chaise-cart, 
nor  a  guillotined  cabriolet;  and  yet  it  had  something  of 
the  character  of  each  and  every  of  these  machines.  It 
was  painted  a  bright  yellow,  with  the  shafts  and  wheels 
picked  out  in  black;  and  the  driver  sat,  in  the  orthodox 
sporting  style,  on  cushions  piled  about  two  feet  above 
the  rail.  The  horse  was  a  bay,  a  well-looking  animal 
enough,  but  with  something  of  a  flash  and  dog-fighting 
air  about  him,  nevertheless,  which  accorded  admirably 
both  with  the  vehicle  and  his  master. 

The  master  himself  v/as  a  man  of  about  forty,  with 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


173 


black  hair,  and  carefully  combed  whiskers ;  dressed  in  a 
particularly  gorgeous  manner:  with  plenty  of  articles 
of  jewelry  about  him— all  about  three  sizes  larger  than 
those  which  are  usually  worn  by  gentlemen — and  a  rough 
great-coat  to  crown  the  whole.  Into  one  pocket  of  this 
great-coat  he  thrust  his'  left  hand  the  moment  he  dis- 
inounted,  while  from  the  other  he  drew  forth,  with  his 
right,  a  very  bright  and  glaring  silk  handkerchief,  with 
which  he  whisked  a  speck  or  two  of  dust  from  his  boots, 
and  then,  crumpling  it  in  his  haad,  swaggered  up  the 
court. 

It  had  not  escaped  Sam's  attention  that,  when  this 
person  dismounted,  a  shabby-looking  man  in  a  brown 
great-coat  shorn  of  divers  buttons,  who  had  been  pre- 
viously slinking  about,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way, 
crossed  over,  and  remained  stationary  close  by.  Having 
something  more  than  a  suspicion  of  the  object  of  the 
gentleman's  visit,  Sam  preceded  him  to  the  George  and 
Vulture,  and,  turning  sharp  round,  planted  himself  in 
the  centre  of  the  doorway. 

''Now,  my  fine  fellow!"  said  the  man  in  the  rough 
coat,  in  an  imperious  tone:  attempting  at  the  same  time 
to  push  his  way  past. 

''Now,  sir,  wot's  the  matter?"  replied  Sam,  returning 
the  push  with  compound  interest. 

"  Come,  none  of  this,  my  man;  this  won't  do  with  me," 
said  the  owner  of  the  rough  coat,  raising  his  voice,  and 
turning  white.    "Here,  Smouch!" 

"Well,  wot's  amiss  here?"  growled  the  man  in  the 
brown  coat,  who  had  been  gradually  sneaking  up  the 
court  during  this  short  dialogue. 

"Only  some  insolence  of  this  young  man's,"  said  the" 
principal,  giving  Sam  another  push. 

"Come,  none  o'  this  gammon,"  growled  Smouch, 
giving  him  another  and  a  harder  one. 

This  last  push  had  the  effect  which  it  was  intended  by 
the  experienced  Mr.  Smouch  to  produce;  for  while  Sam, 
anxious  to  return  the  compliment,  was  grinding  that 
gentleman's  body  against  the  doorpost,  the  principal 
crept  past,  and  made  his  wav  to  the  bar:  whither  Sam, 
after  oandying  a  few  epitlietical  remarks  with  Mr. 
Smouch,  followed  at  once. 

"  Good  morning,  my  dear,"  said  the  principal,  address- 
ing the  young  lady  in  the  bar,  with  Botany  Bay  ease^ 


174  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

and  New  South  Wales  gentility;  "which  is  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's room,  my  dear?" 

''Show  him  up,"  said  the  bar-ftiaid  to  a  waiter,  with- 
out deigning  another  look  at  the  exquisite,  in  reply  to 
his  inquiry. 

The  waiter  led  the  way  up  stairs  as  he  was  desired, 
and  the  man  in  the  rough  coat  followed,  with  Sam  behind 
him:  who,  in  his  progress  up  the  staircase,  indulged  in 
sundry  gestures  indicative  of  supreme  contempt  and 
defiance:  to  the  unspQakable  gratification  of  the  servants 
and  other  lookers-on.  Mr.  Smouch,  who  was  troubled 
with  a  hoarse  cough,  remained  below  and  expectorated 
in  the  passage. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  fast  asleep  in  bed,  when  his  early 
visitor,  followed  by  Sam,  entered  the  room.  The  noise 
they  made,  in  so  doing,  awoke  him. 

"  Shaving  water,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  from 
within  the  curtains. 

''Shave  you  directly,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  visitor, 
drawing  one  of  them  back  from  the  bed's  head.  "  I've 
got  an  execution  against  you,  at  the  suit  of  Bardell. 
Here's  the  warrant.  Common  Pleas.  Here's  my  card. 
I  suppose  you'll  come  over  to  my  house."  Giving  Mr. 
Pickwick  a  friendly  tap  on  the  shoulder,  the  sheriff's 
officer — for  such  he  was — threw  his  card  on  the  counter- 
pane, and  pulled  a  gold  toothpick  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket. 

"  ISTamby's  the  name,"  said  the  sheriff's  deputy,  as  Mr. 
Pickwick  took  his  spectacles  from  under  the  pillow, 
and  -put  them  on,  to  read  the  card.  "Namby,  Bell 
Alley,  Coleman  Street." 

At  this  point,  Sam  Weller,  who  had  had  his  eyes  fixed 
hitherto  on  Mr.  Namby's  shining  beaver,  interfered: 

"  Are  you  a  Quaker?"  said  Sam. 

"  I'll  let  you  know  who  I  am,  before  I've  done  with 
you,"  replied  the  indignant  officer.  "I'll  teach  you 
manners,  my  fine  fellow,  one  of  these  fine  mornings. " 

"Thankee,"  said  Sam.  "I'll  do  the  same  for  you. 
Take  your  hat  off."  With  this,  Mr.  Weller,  in  the  most 
dexterous  manner,  knocked  Mr.  Namby's  hat  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room:  with  such  violence  that  he  had 
very  nearly  caused  him  to  swallow  the  gold  toothpick 
into  the  bargain. 

"  Observe  this,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  disconcerted 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


175 


officer,  gasping  for  breath.  "  I've  been  assaulted  in  the 
execution  of  my  dooty  by  your  servant  in  your  chamber. 
I'm  in  bodily  fear.    I  call  you  to  witness  this." 

"  Don't  witness  nothin',  sir/'  interposed  Sam.  Shut 
your  eyes  up  tight,  sir.  I'd  pitch  him  out  o'  winder, 
only  he  couldn't  fall  far  enough,  'cause  o'  the  leads  out- 
side." 

Sam,"  said^r.  Pickwick  in  an  angry  voice,  as  his 
attendant  made  various  demonstrations  of  hostilities, 
if  you  say  another  v/ord,  or  offer  the  slighest  interfer- 
ence with  this  person,  I  discharge  you  that  instant." 
But,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

Hold  your  tongue,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''Take 
that  hat  up  again." 

But  this  Sam  flatly  and  positively  refused  to  do;  and, 
after  he  had  been  severely  reprimanded  by  his  master, 
the  officer,  being  in  a  hurry,  condescended  to  pick  it  up 
himself :  venting  a  great  variety  of  threats  against  Sam 
meanwhile,  which  that  gentleman  received  with  per- 
fect composure:  merely  observing  that  if  Mr.  Namby 
would  have  the  goodness  to  put  his  hat  on  again,  he 
would  knock  it  into  the  latter  end  of  next  week.  Mr. 
Namby,  perhaps  thinking  that  such  a  process  might  be 
productive  of  inconvenience  to  himself,  declined  to  offer 
the  temptation,  and,  soon  after,  called  up  Smouch. 
Having  informed  him  that  the  capture  was  made,  and 
that  he  was  to  wait  for  the  prisoner  until  he  should 
have  finished  dressing,  Namby  then  swaggered  out,  and 
drove  away.  Smouch,  requesting  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a 
surly  manner,  ''to  be  as  alive  as  he  could,  for  it  was  a 
busy  time,"  drew  up  a  chair  by  the  door,  and  sat  there, 
until  he  had  finished  dressing.  Sam  was  then  despatched 
for  a  hackney  coach:  and  in  it  the  triumvirate  proceeded 
to  Coleman  Street.  It  was  fortunate  the  distance  was 
short;  for  Mr.  Smouch,  besides  possessing  no  very  en- 
chanting conversational  powers,  was  rendered  a  decid- 
edly unpleasant  companion  in  a  limited  space,  by  the 


The  coach  having  turned  into  a  very  narrow  and  dark 
street,  stopped  before  a  house  with  iron  bars  to  all  the 
windows;  the  door-posts  of  which  were  graced  by  the 
name  and  title  of  "Namby,  Officer  to  the  Sluiriffs  of 
London;"  the  inner  gate  having  been  opened  l)y  a  geii- 


which  we  have  elsewhere  ad- 


verted. 


176  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

tleman  who  might  have  passed  for  a  neglected  twin 
brother  of  Mr.  Smouch,  and  who  was  endowed  with  a 
large  key  for  the  purpose,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  shown  into 
the  ''coffee-room." 

This  coffee-room  was  a  front  parlour  :  the  principal 
features  of  which  were  fresh  sand  and  stale  tobacco 
smoke.  Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  to  the  three  persons  who 
were  seated  in  it  when  he  entered;  and  having  dis- 
patched Sam  for  Perker,  withdrew  info  an  obscure 
corner,  and  from  thence  looked  with  some  curiosity 
upon  his  new  companions. 

One  of  these  Avas  a  mere  boy  of  nineteen  or  twenty, 
who,  though  it  was  yet  barely  ten  o'clock,  was  drinking 
gin  and  water  and  smoking  a  cigar;  amusements  to 
which,  judging  from  his  inflamed  countenance,  he  had 
devoted  himself  pretty  constantly  for  the  last  year  or 
two  of  his  life.  Opposite  him,  engaged  in  stirring  the 
fire  with  the  toe  of  his  right  boot,  was  a  coarse,  vulgar 
young  man  of  about  thirty,  with  a  sallow  face  and 
harsh  voice,  evidently  possessed  of  that  knowledge  of 
the  world  and  captivating  freedom  of  manner  which  is 
to  be  acquired,  in  public-house  parlours  and  at  low  bil- 
liard-tables. The  third  tenant  of  the  apartment  was  a 
middle-aged  man  in  an  old  suit  of  black,  who  looked 
pale  and  haggard,  and  paced  up  and  down  the  rooin 
incessantly,  stopping  now  and  then  to  look  with  great 
anxiety  out  of  the  wmdow,  as  if  he  expected  somebody, 
and  then  resuming  his  walk. 

"  You'd  better  have  the  loan  of  my  razor  this  morning, 
Mr  Ayresleigh,"  said  the  man  who  was  stirring  the  fire, 
tipping  the  wink  to  his  friend  the  boy. 

"  Thank  you,  no,  I  shan't  want  it;  I  expect  I  shall  be 
out  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or  so,"  replied  the  other,  in 
a  hurried  manner.  Then,  walking  again  up  to  the  win- 
dow, and  once  more  returning  disappointed,  he  sighed 
deeply,  and  left  the  room;  upon  which  the  other  two 
burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

''Well,  I  never  saw  such  a  game  as  that,"  said  the 
gentleman  who  had  offered  the  razor,  whose  name  ap- 
peared to  be  Price.  "  Never  !  "  Mr.  Price  confirmed  the 
assertion  with  an  oath,  and  then  laughed  again,  when 
of  course  the  boy  (who  thought  his  companion  one  of  the 
most  dashing  fellows  alive)  laughed  also. 

"You'd  hardly  think,  would  you,  now,"  said  Price, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


177 


turning  towards  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''that  that  chap's  been 
here  a  week  yesterday,  and  never  once  shaved  himself 
yet,  because  he  feels  so  certain  he's  going  out  in  half  an 
hour's  time,  that  he  thinks  he  may  as  well  put  it  off  till 
he  gets  home  ? " 

''Poor  man  I"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Are  his  chances 
of  getting  out  of  his  difficulties  really  so  great  ?  " 

"  Chances  be  d — d,"  replied  Price;  "he  hasn't  half  the 
ghost  of  one.  I  wouldn't  give  that  for  his  chance  of  walk- 
ing about  the  streets  this  time  ten  years. "  With  this,  Mr. 
Price  snapped  his  fingers  contemptuously,  and  rang  the 
bell. 

"  Give  me  a  sheet  of  paper,  Crookey,"  said  Mr.  Price 
to  the  attendant,  who  in  dress  and  general  appearance 
looked  something  between  a  bankrupt  grazier  and  a 
drover  in  a  state  of  insolvency;  and  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  water,  Crookey,  d'ye  hear  !  I'm  going  to  write  to 
my  father,  and  I  must  nave  a  stimulant,  or  I  shan't  be 
able  to  pitch  it  strong  enough  into  the  old  boy."  At  this 
facetious  speech,  the  young  boy,  it  is  almost  needless 
to  say,  was  fairly  convulsed. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Price.  "  Never  say  die.  All 
fun,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  Prime  !"  said  the  young  gentleman. 

"You've  some  spirit  about  you,  you  have,"  said  Price. 
"You've  seen  something  of  life." 

"I  rather  think  I  have  !"  replied  the  boy.  He  had 
looked  at  it  through  the  dirty  panes  of  glass  in  a  bar 
door. 

Mr.  Pickwick  feeling  not  a  little  disgusted  with  this 
dialogue,  as  well  as  with  the  air  and  manner  of  the  two 
beings  by  whom  it  had  been  carried  on,  was  about  to 
inquire  whether  he  could  not  be  accommodated  with  a 
private  sitting-room,  when  two  or  three  strangers  of 
genteel  appearance  entered,  at  sight  of  whom  the  boy 
threw  his  cigar  into  the  fire,  and  whispering  to  Mr. 
Price  that  they  had  come  to  "make  it  all  right  "for 
him,  joined  them  at  a  table  in  the  further  end  of  the 
room. 

It  would  appear,  however,  that  the  matters  were  not 
going  to  be  made  all  right  quite  so  speedily  as  the  young 
gentleman  anticipated;  for  a  very  long  conversation 
ensued,  of  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  avoid  hearing 
certain  angry  fragmennts  regarding  dissolute  conduct 


178  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  repeated  forgiveness.  At  last  there  were  very  dis- 
tinct allusions  by  the  oldest  gentleman  of  the  party  to 
one  Whitecross  Street,  at  which  the  young  gentleman, 
notwithstanding  his  primeness  and  his  spirit,  and  his 
knowledge  of  life  into  the  bargain,  reclined  his  head 
upon  the  table  and  howled  dismally. 

Very  much  satisfied  with  this  sudden  bringing  down 
of  the  youth's  valour,  and  effectual  lowering  of  his 
tone,  Mr.  Pickwick  rang  the  bell,  and  was  shown,  at 
his  own  request,  into  a  privrite  room  furnished  with  a 
carpet,  table,  chairs,  sideboard  and  sofa,  and  ornamented 
with  a  looking-glass  and  various  old  prints.  Here  he 
had  the  advantage  of  hearing  Mrs.  Namby's  perform- 
ance on  a  square  piano  overhead  while  the  breakfast 
was  getting  ready;  and  when  it  came,  Mr.  Perker  ar- 
rived also. 

^'Aha,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  ^'nailed  at 
last,  eh  ?  Come,  come,  I'm  not  sorry  for  it  either,  be- 
cause now  you'll  see  the  absurdity  of  this  conduct.  Pve 
noted  down  the  amount  of  the  taxed  costs  and  'damages 
for  which  the  ca-sa  was  issued,  and  we  had  better  settle 
at  once  and  lose  no  time.  Namby  is  come  home  by  this 
time,  I  dare  say.  What  say  you,  my  dear  sir,  shall  I 
draw  a  cheque,  or  will  you  ?  "  The  little  man  rubbed 
his  hands  with  affected  cheerfulness  as  he  said  this, 
but  glancing  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance,  could  not 
forbear  at  the  same  time  casting  a  desponding  look 
towards  Sam  Weller. 

''Perker,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''let  me  hear  no  more 
of  this,  I  beg.  I  see  no  advantage  in  staying  here,  so  I 
shall  go  to  prison  to-night." 

"You  can't  go  to  Whitecross  Street,  my  dear  sir," 
said  Perker.  "Impossible!  There  are  sixty  beds  in  a 
ward;  and  the  bolt's  on  sixteen  hours  out  of  the  four- 
and-twenty." 

"  I  would  rather  go  to  some  other  place  of  confine- 
ment if  I  can,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "If  not,  I  must 
make  the  best  I  can  of  that." 

"  You  can  go  to  the  Fleet,  my  dear  sir,  if  you're  de- 
termined to  go  somewhere,"  said  Perker. 

"That'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "I'll  go  there  di- 
rectly I've  finished  my  breakfast." 

"Stop,  stop,  my  dear  sir;  not  the  least  occasion  for 
being  in  such  a  violent  hurry  to  get  into  a  place  that 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


179 


most  other  men  are  as  eager  to  get  out  of,"  said 
the  good-natured  little  attorney.  ''  We  must  have  a 
habeas  corpus.  There'll  be  no  judge  at  chambers 
till  four  o'clock  this  afternoon.  You  must  wait  till 
then." 

''Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  unmoved  pa- 
tience. "  Then  we  will  have  a  chop,  here,  at  two.  See 
about  it,  Sam,  and  tell  them  to  be  punctual." 

Mr.  Pickwick  remaining  firm,  despite  all  the  remon- 
strances and  arguments  of  Perker,  the  chops  appeared 
and  disappeared  in  due  course;  he  was  then  put  into 
another  hackney-coach,  and  carried  off  to  Chancery 
Lane;  after  waiting  half  an  hour  or  so  for  Mr.  Namby, 
who  had  a  select  dinner  party,  and  could,  on  no  account, 
be  disturbed  before. 

There  were  two  judges  in  attendance  at  Serjeant's 
Inn — one  King's  Bench  and  one  Common  Pleas — and  a 
great  deal  of  business  appeared  to  be  transacting  before 
them,  if  the  number  of  lawyers'  clerks  who  were  hur- 
rying in  and  out  with  bundles  of  papers  afforded  any 
test.  When  they  reached  the  low  archway  which  forms 
the  entrance  to  the  Inn,  Perker  was  detained  a  few 
moments  parleying  with  the  coachman  about  the  fare 
and  the  change;  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  stepping  to  one  side 
to  be  out  of  the  waj^  of  the  stream  of  people  that  were 
pouring  in  and  out,  looked  about  him  with  some  curi- 
osity. 

The  people  that  attracted  his  attention  most  were 
three  or  four  men  of  shabby-genteel  appearance,  who 
touched  their  hats  to  many  of  the  attorneys  who  passed, 
and  seemed  to  have  some  business  there,  the  nature  of 
which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  divine.  They  were 
curious-looking  fellows.  One  was  a  slim  and  rather  lame 
man  in  rusty  black,  and  a  white  neckerchief;  another 
was  a  stout,  burly  person,  dressed  in  the  same  apparel, 
with  a  great  reddish-black  cloth  round  his  neck;  a  third 
was  a  little  weazen,  drunken-looking  body  with  a  pimply 
face.  They  were  loitering  about,  with  their  hands  be- 
hind them,  and  now  and  then,  with  an  anxious  counte- 
nance, whispered  something  in  the  ear  of  some  of  the  gen- 
tlemen with  papers,  as  they  hurried  by.  Mr.  Pickwick 
remembered  to  have  very  often  observed  them  lounging 
under  the  archway  when  he  had  been  walking  past;  and 
his  curiosity 'was  quite  excited  to  know  to  what  branch 


180  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

of  the  profession  these  dingy -looking  loungers  could  pos- 
sibly belong. 

He  was  about  to  propound  the  question  to  Mr.  Namby, 
who  kept  close  beside  him,  sucking  a  large  gold  ring  on 
his  little  finger,  when  Perker  bustled  up,  and  observing 
that  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  led  the  way  into  the  Inn. 
As  Mr.  Pickwick  followed,  the  lame  man  stepped  up  to 
him,  and  civilly  touching  his  hat,  held  out  a  written 
card,  which  Mr.  Pickwick,  not  wishing  to  hurt  the  man's 
feelings  by  refusing,  courteously  accepted  and  deposited 
in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Perker,  turning  round  before  he  en- 
tered one  of  the*  offices,  to  see  that  his  companions  were 
close  behind  him,  In  here,  my  dear  sir.  Hallo,  what 
do  you  want?" 

This  last  question  was  addressed  to  the  lame  man, 
who,  unobserved  by  Mr.  Pickwick,  made  one  of  the 
party.  In  reply  to  it,  the  lame  man  touched  his  hat 
again,  with  all  imaginable  politeness,  and  motioned  to- 
wards Mr.  Pickwick. 

^^No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Perker  with  a  smile.  We  don't 
want  you,  my  dear  friend,  we  don't  want  you." 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  lame  man.  The 
gentleman  took  my  card.  I  hope  you  will  employ  me, 
sir.  The  gentleman  nodded  to  me.  I'll  be  judged  by 
the  gentleman  himself.    You  nodded  to  me,  sir?" 

^'Pooh,  pooh,  nonsense.  You  didn't  nod  to  anybody, 
Pickwick?  A  mistake,  a  mistake,"  said  Perker. 

^^The  gentleman  handed  me  his  card,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  producing  it  from  his  waistcoat-pocket.  ^'I 
accepted  it,  as  the  gentleman  seemed  to  wish  it — in  fact 
I  had  some  curiosity  to  look  at  it  when  I  should  be  at 
leisure.    I — " 

The  little  attorney  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  return- 
ing the  card  to  the  lame  man,  informing  him  it  was  all  a 
mistake,  whispered  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  man  turned 
away  in  dudgeon,  that  he  was  only  a  bail. 

A  what!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick.  ^ 

A  bail,"  replied  Perker. 

A  bail?" 

Yes,  my  dear  sir— half  a  dozen  of  'em  here.  Bail 
you  to  any  amount,  and  only  charge  half-a-crown.  Curi- 
ous trade,  isn't  it?"  said  Perker,  regaling  himself  with 
a  pinch  of  snuff. 

1 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


181 


''What!  am  I  to  understand  that  these  men  earn  a 
livelihood  by  waiting  about  here,  to  perjure  themselves 
before  the  judges  of  the  land,  at  the  rate  of  half-a-crown 
a  crime!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  aghast  at  the 
disclosure. 

''Why,  I  don't  know  exactly  about  perjury,  my  dear 
sir,"  replied  the  little  gentleman.  "Harsh  word,  my 
dear  sir,  very  harsh  word,  indeed.  It's  a  legal  fiction, 
my  dear  sir,  nothing  more."  Saying  which,  the  attorney 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  smiled,  took  a  second  pinch  of 
snuff,  and  led  the  way  into  the  office  of  the  judge's  clerk. 

This  was  a  room  of  specially  dirty  appearance,  with  a 
very  low  ceiling  and  old  panelled  walls;  and  so  badly 
lighted  that,  although  it  was  broad  day  outside,  great 
tallow  candles  were  burning  on  the  desks.    At  one  end 
was  a  door  leading  to  the  judge's  private  apartment, 
round  which  were  congregated  a  crowd  of  attorneys  and 
managing  clerks,  who  were  called  in,  in  the  order  in 
which  their  respective  appointments  stood  upon  the  file. 
Every  time  this  door  was  opened  to  let  a  party  out,  the 
lext  party  made  a  violent  rush  to  get  in;  and,  as  in  ad- 
lition  to  the  numerous  dialogues  which  passed  between 
he  gentlemen  who  were  waiting  to  see  the  judge,  a 
'arietv  of  personal  squabbles  ensued  between  the  greater 
]art  01  those  who  had  seen  him,  there  was  as  much  noise 
s  could  be  well  raised  in  an  apartment  of  such  confined 
dmensions. 

Nor  were  the  conversations  of  these  gentlemen  the 
oily  sounds  that  broke  upon  the  ear.  Standing  on  a  box 
bhind  a  wooden  bar  at  another  end  of  the  room,  was  a 
C3rk  in  spectacles,  who  was  "taking  the  affidavits:" 
hrge  batches  of  which  were,  from  time  to  time,  carried 
ii^o  the  private  room  by  another  clerk  for  the  judge's 
signature.  There  were  a  large  number  of  attorneys' 
cLrks  to  be  sworn,  and  it  being  a  moral  impossibility  to 
s^ear  them  all  at  once,  the  struggles  of  these  gentlemen 
to  reach  the  clerk  in  spectacles  were  like  those  of  a 
CDwd  to  get  in  at  the  pit  door  of  a  theatre  when  his 
M)st  Gracious  Majesty  honours  it  with  his  presence. 
Aiother  functionary,  from  time  to  time,  exercised  his 
Imgs  in  calling  over  the  names  of  those  who  had  been 
s^orn,  for  the  purpose  of  restoring  to  them  their  affi- 
dtvits  after  thev  had  been  signed  by  the  judge:  which 
give  rise  to  a  tew  more  scuffles;  and  all  these  thingf^ 


182  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


going  on  at  the  same  time,  occasioned  as  much  bustle 
as  the  most  active  and  excitable  person  could  desire  to 
behold.  There  were  yet  another  class  of  persons — those 
who  were  waiting  to  attend  summonses  their  employers 
had  taken  out,  which  it  was  optional  to  the  attorney  on 
the  opposite  side  to  attend  or  not — and  whose  business 
it  was,  from  time  to  time,  to  cry  out  the  opposite  attor- 
ney's name:  to  make  certain  that  he  was  not  in  attend- 
ance without  their  knowledge. 

For  example.  Leaning  against  the  wall,  close  beside 
the  seat  Mr.  Pickwick  had  taken,  was  an  office-lad  of 
fourteen,  with  a  tender  voice;  near  him,  a  common-law 
clerk  with  a  bass  one. 

A  clerk  hurried  in  with  a  bundle  of  papers,  and  stared 
about  him. 

Sniggle  and  Blink,"  cried  the  tenor. 
Porkin  and  Snob,"  growled  the  bass. 

"  Stumpy  and  Deacon,"  said  the  new  comer. 

Nobody  answered;  the  next  man  who  came  in  was 
hailed  by  the  whole  three;  and  he  in  his  turn  shouted 
for  another  firm;  and  then  somebody  else  roared  in  a 
loud  voice  for  another;  and  so  forth. 

All  this  time  the  man  in  the  spectacles  was  hard  at 
work  swearing  the  clerks :  the  oath  being  invariably  ad- 
ministered without  any  effort  at  punctuation,  and  usually 
in  the  following  terms: 

"  Take  the  book  in  your  right  hand  this  is  your  name 
and  hand-writing  you  swear  that  the  contents  of  this 
your  affidavit  are  true  so  help  you  God  a  shilling  you 
must  get  change  I  haven't  got  it !" 

^^Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''I  suppose  they 
are  getting  the  habeas  corpus  ready?"  ' 

^^Yes,"  said  Sam,  ''and  I  vish  they'd  bring  out  the  havej 
his-carcase.  It's  werry  unpleasant  keepin'  us  vaitin 
here.  I'd  ha'  got  half  a  dozen  have-his-carcases  ready 
pack'd  up  and  all,  by  this  time." 

What  sort  of  cumbrous  and  unmanageable  machine 
Sam  Weller  imagined  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  to  be,  doei 
not  appear;  for  Perker,  at  that  moment,  walked  up,  anc 
took  Mr.  Pickwick  away. 

The  usual  forms  having  been  gone  through,  the  bod] 
of  Samuel  Pickwick  was  soon  afterwards  confided  to  th( 
custody  of  the  tipstaff,  to  be  by  him  taken  to  the  Wardei 
of  the  Fleet  Prison,  and  there  detained  until  the  amoun 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


183 


of  the  damages  and  costs  in  the  action  of  Bardell  against 
Pickwick  was  fully  paid  and  satisfied. 

And  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing,  will  be  a 
very  long  time.  Sam,  call  another  hackney-coach. 
Perker,  my  dear  friend,  good-bye." 

^'I  shall  go  with  you,  and  see  you  safe  there,"  said 
Perker. 

Indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^^I  would  rather  go 
without  any  other  attendant  but  Sam.  As  soon  as  I  get 
settled,  I  will  write  and  let  you  know,  and  I  shall  ex- 
pect you  immediately.    Until  then,  good-bye." 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  said  this  he  got  into  the  coach,  which 
had  by  this  time  arrived:  followed  by  the  tipstaff.  Sam 
having  stationed  himself  on  the  box,  it  rolled  away. 

A  most  extraordinary  man,  that!"  said  Perker,  as 
he  stopped  to  pull  on  his  gloves. 

What  a  bankrupt  he'd  make,  sir,"  observed  Mr.  Low- 
ten,  who  was  standing  near.  ^*  How  he  would  bother 
the  commissioners!  He'd  set  'em  at  defiance  if  they 
talked  of  committing  him,  sir." 

The  attorney  did  not  appear  very  much  delighted  with 
his  clerk's  professional  estimate  of  Mr.  Pickwick's 
character,  for  he  walked  away  without  deigning  any 
reply. 

The  hackney-coach  jolted  along  Fleet  Street,  as  hack- 
ney-coaches usually  do.  The  horses  went  better,"  the 
driver  said,  when  they  had  anything  before  them  (they 
must  have  gone  at  a  most  extraordinary  pace  when 
there  was  nothing),  and  so  the  vehicle  kept  behind  a 
cart;  when  the  cart  stopped,  it  stopped;  and  when  the 
cart  went  on  again,  it  did  the  same.  Mr.  Pickwick  sat 
opposite  the  tipstaff;  and  the  tipstaff  sat  with  his  hat 
between  his  knees,  whistling  a  tune,  and  looking  out  of 
the  coach-window. 

Time  performs  wonders.  By  the  powerful  old  gentle- 
man's aid,  even  a  hackney-coach  gets  over  half  a  mile 
of  ground.  They  stopped  at  length,  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
alighted  at  the  gate  of  the  Fleet. 

The  tipstaff,  looking  over  his  shoulder  to  see  that  his 
charge  was  following  close  at  his  heels,  preceded  Mr. 
Pickwick  into  the  prison;  turning  to  the  left,  after  they 
had  entered,  they  i)assed  through  an  open  door  into  a 
lobby,  from  which  a  heavy  gate:  opposite  to  that  by 
which  they  had  entered,  and  which  was  guarded  by  a 


184  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


stout  turnkey  with  the  key  in  his  hand:  led  at  once  into 
the  interior  of  the  pri&  on. 

Here  they  stopped,  while  the  tipstaff  delivered  his 
papers;  and  here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  apprised  that  he 
would  remain,  until  he  had  undergone  the  ceremony 
known  to  the  initiated  as  sitting  for  your  portrait." 
Sitting  for  my  portrait! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Having  your  likeness  taken,  sir,"  replied  the  stout 
turnkey.  ''We're  capital  hands  at  likenesses  here. 
Take  'em  in  no  time,  and  always  exact.  Walk  in,  sir, 
and  make  yourself  at  home." 

Mr.  Pickwick  complied  with  the  invitation,  and  sat 
himself  down;  when  Mr.  Weller,  who  stationed  himself 
at  the  back  of  the  chair,  whispered  that  the  sitting  was 
merely  another  term  for  undergoing  an  inspection  by 
the  different  turnkeys,  in  order  that  they  might  know 
prisoners  from  visitors. 

''Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "then  I  wish  the 
artists  would  come.    This  is  rather  a  public  place." 

"  They  von't  be  long,  sir,  I  des-say,"  replied  Sam. 
"  There's  a  Dutch  clock,  sir." 

"So  I  see,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  a  bird-cage,  sir,"  said  Sam.  "  Veels  vithin  veels, 
a  prison  in  a  prison.    Ain't  it,  sir." 

As  Mr.  Weller  made  this  philosophical  remark,  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  aware  that  his  sitting  had  commenced. 
The  stout  turnkey,  having  been  relieved  from  the  lock, 
^  sat  down,  and  looked  at  him  carelessly,  from  time  to 
time,  while  a  long,  thin  man,  who  had  relieved  him, 
thrust  his  hands  beneath  his  coat-tails,  and  planting 
himself  opposite,  took  a  good  long  view  of  him.  A  third 
rather  surly-looking  gentleman,  who  had  apparently 
been  disturbed  at  his  tea,  for  he  was  disposing  of  the 
last  remnant  of  a  crust  and  butter  when  he  came  in, 
stationed  himself  close  to  Mr.  Pickwick;  and,  resting 
his  hands  on  his  hips,  inspected  him  narrowly;  while 
two  others  mixed  with  the  group,  and  studied  his  fea- 
tures with  most  intent  and  thoughtful  faces.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick winced  a  good  deal  under  the  operation,  and 
appeared  to  sit  very  uneasily  in  his  chair;  but  he  made 
no  remark  to  anybody  while  it  was  being  performed — 
not  even  to  Sam,  who  reclined  upon  the  back  of  the 
chair;  reflecting,  partly  on  the  situation  of  his  master, 
and  partly  on  the  great  satisfaction  it  would  have  af- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


185 


forded  him  to  make  a  fierce  assault  upon  all  the  turn- 
keys there  assembled,  one  after  the  other,  if  it  were 
lawful  and  peaceable  so  to  do. 

At  length  the  likeness  was  completed,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  informed  that  he  might  now  proceed  into  the 
prison. 

Where  am  I  to  sleep  to-night  ? inquired  Mr.  Pick^ 
wick. 

Why,  I  don't  rightly  know  about  to-night,"  replied 
the  stout  turnkey.  You'll  be  chummed  on  somebody 
to-morrow,  and  then  you'll  be  all  snug  and  comfortable. 
The  first  night's  generally  rather  unsettled,  but  you'll 
be  set  all  squares  to-morrow." 

After  some  discussion  it  was  discovered  that  one  of 
the  turnkeys  had  a  bed  to  let,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could 
have  for  that  night.    He  gladly  agreed  to  hire  it, 

''If  you'll  come  with  me,  I'll  show  you  it  at  once," 
said  the  man.  ''It  ain't  a  large  'un;  but  it's  an  out-and 
outer  to  sleep  in.    This  way,  sir." 

They  passed  through  the  inner  gate  and  descended  a 
short  flight  of  steps.    The  key  was  turned  after  them;- 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  found  himself,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  within  the  walls  of  a  debtors'  prison. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHAT  BEFEL  MR.  PICKWICK  WHEN  HE  GOT  INTO  THE 
FLEET  ;  WHAT  PRISONERS  HE  SAW  THERE  ;  AND  HOW 
HE  PASSED  THE  NIGHT. 

Mr.  Tom  Roker,  the  gentleman  who  had  accom- 
panied Mr.  Pickwick  into  the  prison,  turned  sharp 
round  to  the  right  when  he  got  to  the  bottom  of  the 
little  flight  of  steps,  and  led  the  way,  through  an  iron 
gate  which  stood  open,  and  up  another  short  flight  of 
steps,  into  a  long,  narrow  gallery,  dirty  and  low,  paved 
with  stone,  and  very  dimly  lighted  by  a  window  at  each 
remote  end. 

"This,"  said  the  gentleman,  thrusting  his  hands  into 
his  pockets  and  looking  carelessly  over  his  shoulder  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "this  here  is  the  hall  flight." 

"Oh,"  replied  Mr,  Pickwick,  looking  down  a  dark 


186 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


and  filthy  staircase,  which  appeared  to  lead  to  a  range 
of  damp  and  gloomy  stone  vaults  beneath  the  ground, 
''and  those,  I  suppose,  are  the  little  cellars  where  the 
prisoners  keep  their  small  quantities  of  coals.  Un- 
pleasant places  to  have  to  go  down  to;  but  very  con- 
venient, I  dare  say." 

"  Yes,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  was  convenient," 
replied  the  gentleman,  "  seeing  that  a  few  people  live 
their,  pretty  snug.    That's  the  Fair,  that  is." 

''My  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  you  don't  really 
mean  to  say  that  human  beings  live  down  in  those 
wretched  dungeons  ?  " 

"  Don't  I  ?"  replied  Mr.  Roker,  with  indignant  aston- 
ishment; "  why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Live  ! — live  down  there  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Live  down  there !  yes,  and  die  down  there,  too, 
worry  often  !"  replied  Mr.  Roker;  "and  what  of  that  ? 
Who's  got  to  say  anything  agin  it  ?  Live  down  there  ! 
— yes,  and  a  worry  good  place  it  is  to  live  in,  ain't  it  ? " 

As  Roker  turned  somewhat  fiercely  upon  Mr.  Pick- 
wick in  saying  this,  and,  moreover,  muttered  in  an 
excited  fashion  certain  unpleasant  invocations  concern- 
ing his  own  eyes,  limbs,  and  circulating  fluids,  the  latter 
gentleman  deemed  it  advisable  to  pursue  the  discourse 
no  further.  Mr.  Roker  then  proceeded  to  mount  another 
staircase  as  dirty  as  that  which  led  to  the  place  which 
had  just  been  the  subject  of  discussion,  in  which  ascent 
he  was  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  pausing  for  breath  when 
they  reached  another  gallery  of  the  same  dimensions  as 
the  one  below,  "this  is  the  coffee-room  flight;  the  one 
above's  the  third,  and  the  one  above  that's  the  top,  and 
the  room  where  you're  a  going  to  sleep  to-night  is  the 
warden's  room,  and  it's  this  way — come  on."  Having 
said  all  this  in  a  breath,  Mr.  Roker  mounted  another 
flight  of  stairs,  with  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller  fol- 
lowing at  his  heels. 

These  staircases  received  light  from  sundry  windows 
placed  at  some  little  distance  above  the  floor,  and  looking 
into  a  gravelled  area  bounded  by  a  high  brick  wall,  with 
iron  chevaux-de-frise  at  the  top.  This  area,  it  appeared 
from  Mr.  Roker's  statement,  was  the  racket-ground ; 
and  it  further  appeared,  on  the  testimony  of  the  same 
gentleman,  that  there  was  a  smaller  area  in  that  portion 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  187 

of  the  prison  which  was  nearest  Farringdon  Street,  de- 
nominated and  called  the  Painted  Ground/'  from  the 
fact  of  its  walls  having  once  displayed  the  semblances 
of  various  men-of-war  in  full  sail,  and  other  artistical 
effects,  achieved  in  bygone  times  by  some  imprisoned 
draughtsman  in  his  leisure  hours. 

Having  communicated  this  piece  of  information,  ap- 
parently more  for  the  purpose  of  discharging  his  bosom 
of  an  important  fact  than  with  any  specific  view  of 
enlightening  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  guide,  having  at  length 
reached  another  gallery,  led  the  way  into  a  small  pas- 
sage at  the  extreme  end  ;  opened  a  door,  and  disclosed 
an  apartment  of  an  appearance  by  no  means  inviting, 
containing  eight  or  nine  iron  bedsteads. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  holding  the  door  open,  and 
looking  triumphantly  round  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''there's 
a  room ! " 

Mr.  Pickwick's  face,  however,  betokened  such  a  very 
trifling  portion  of  satisfaction  at  the  appearance  of  his 
lodging  that  Mr.  Roker  looked  for  a  reciprocity  of 
feeling  into  the  countenance  of  Samuel  Weller,  who 
until  now  had  observed  a  dignified  silence. 

"  There's  a  room,  young  man,"  observed  Mr.  Roker. 

''  I  see  it,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  placid  nod  of  the  head. 

''You  wouldn't  think  to  find  such  a  room  as  this  in  the 
Farringdon  Hotel,  would  you  ? "  said  Mr.  Roker,  with  a 
complacent  smile. 

To  this  Mr.  Weller  replied  with  an  easy  and  unstudied 
closing  of  one  eye,  which  might  be  considered  to  mean 
either  that  he  would  have  thought  it,  or  that  he  would 
not  have  thought  it,  or  that  he  had  never  thought  any- 
thing at  all  about  it — as  the  observer's  imagination  sug- 
gested. Having  executed  this  feat,  and  re-opened  his 
eye,  Mr.  Weller  proceeded  to  inquire  which  was  the 
individual  bedstead  that  Mr.  Roker  had  so  flatteringly 
described  as  an  out-and-outer  to  sleep  in. 

"  That's  it,"  replied  Mr.  Roker,  pointing  to  a  very 
rusty  one  in  a  corner.  "  It  would  make  any  one  go  to 
sleep,  that  bedstead  would,  whether  they  wanted  to  or 
not." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Sam,  eyeing  the  piece  of  furni- 
ture in  question  with  a  look  of  excessive  disgust,  "I 
should  think  poppies  was  nothing  to  it." 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Roker. 


188  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''And  I  s'pose/'  said  Sam,  with  a  sidelong  glance 
at  his  master,  as  if  to  see  whether  there  were  any 
symptoms  of  his  determination  being  shaken  by  what 
passed,  "  I  s'pose  the  other  gen'l'men  as  sleeps  here 
are  gen'l'men, " 

''Nothing  but  it,"  said  Mr.  Roker.  "One  of  'em  takes 
his  twelve  pints  of  ale  a-day,  and  never  leaves  off  smok- 
ing, even  at  his  meals." 

"He  must  be  a  first-rater,"  said  Sam. 

"  A  1,"  replied  Mr.  Roker. 

Nothing  daunted  even  by  this  intelligence,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick smilingly  announced  his  determination  to  test  the 
powers  of  the  narcotic  bedstead  for  that  night,  and  Mr. 
Koker,  after  informing  him  that  he  could  retire  to  rest 
at  whatever  hour  he  thought  proper  w^ithout  any  further 
notice  or  formality,  walked  off,  leaving  him  standing 
with  Sam  in  the  gallery. 

It  was  getting  dark ;  that  is  to  say,  a  few  gas  jets 
were  kindled  in  this  place,  which  was  never  light,  by 
way  of  compliment  to  the  evening,  which  had  set  in 
outside.  As  it  was  rather  warm,  some  of  the  tenants 
of  the  numerous  little  rooms  which  opened  into  the 
gallery  on  either  hand  had  set  their  doors  ajar..  Mr. 
Pickwick  peeped  into  them  as  he  passed  along  with 

freat  curiosity  and  interest.  Here  four  or  five  great 
ulking  fellows,  just  visible  through  a  cloud  of  tobacco- 
smoke,  were  engaged  in  noisy  and  riotous  conversation 
over  half-emptied  pots  of  beer,  or  playing  at  all-fours 
with  a  very  greasy  pack  of  cards.  In  the  adjoining 
room  some  solitary  tenant  might  be  seen  poring,  by  the 
light  of  a  feeble  tallow  candle,  over  a  bundle  of  soiled 
and  tattered  papers,  j^ellow  with  dust  and  dropping  to 
pieces  from  age  ;  writing,  for  the  hundredth  time,  some 
lengthened  statement  of  his  grievances,  for  the  perusal 
of  some  great  man  whose  eyes  it  would  never  reach,  or 
vv^hose  heart  it  would  never  touch.  In  a  third  a  man 
vv^ith  his  wife  and  a  whole  crowd  of  children  might  be 
f;een  making  up  a  scanty  bed  on  the  ground,  or  upon  a 
few  chairs,  for  the  younger  ones  to  pass  the  night  in. 
And  in  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth,  and  a  sixth,  and  a  seventh, 
the  noise,  and  the  beer,  and  the  tobacco-smoke,  and  the 
cards,  all  came  over  again  in  greater  force  than  before. 

In  the  galleries  themselves,  and  more  especially  on 
the  staircases,  there  lingered  a  great  number  of  people, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


189 


who  came  there:  some  because  their  rooms  were  empty 
and  lonesome:  others  because  their  rooms  were  full  and 
hot:  and  the  greater  part  because  they  were  restless  and 
uncomfortable,  and  not  possessed  of  the  secret  of  ex- 
actly knowing  what  to  do  with  themselves.  There  were 
many  classes  of  people  here,  from  the  labouring  man  in 
his  fustian  jacket,  to  the  broken-down  spendthrift  in  his 
shawl  dressing-gown,  most  appropriately  out  at  elbows; 
but  there  was  the  same  air  about  them  all — a  listless, 
jail-bird,  careless  swagger;  a  vagabondish  who's-afraid 
sort  of  bearing,  which  is  wholly  indescribable  in  words; 
but  which  any  man  can  understand  in  (?ne  moment  if  he 
wish,  by  setting  foot  in  the  nearest  debtors'  prison,  and 
looking  at  the  very  first  group  of  people  he  sees  there, 
with  the  same  interest  as  Mr.  Pickwick  did. 

It  strikes  me,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  leaning  over 
the  iron  rail  at  the  stair-head,  it  strikes  me,  Sam,  that 
imprisonment  for  debt  is  scarcely  any  punishment  at  all." 

"  Think  not,  sir? "  ^* required  Mr.  Weller. 

''You  see  how  th^'^^j  fellows  drink,  and  smoke,  and 
roar,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  It's  quite  impossible  that 
they  can  mind  it  much." 

''Ah,  that's  just  the  werry  thing,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam, 

they  don't  mind  it;  it's  a  reg'lar  holiday  to  them — all 
porter  and  skittles.  It's  the  t'other  vuns  as  gets  done 
over  vith  this  sort  o'  thing:  them  down-hearted  fellers 
as  can't  svig  avay  at  the  beer,  nor  play  skittles  neither; 
them  as  vould  pay  if  they  could,  and  gets  low  by  being 
boxed  up.  I'll  tell  you  wot  it  is,  sir;  them  as  is  alvays  a 
idlin'  in  public  houses  it  don't  damage  at  all,  and  them 
as  is  alvays  a  workin'  wen  they  can  it  damages  too 
much.  '  It's  unekal,'  as  my  father  used  to  say  wen  his 
grog  worn't  made  half-and-half — '  it's  unekal,  and  that's 
the  fault  on  it.'" 

"I  think  you're  right,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
a  few  moments'  reflection,  "  quite  right." 

"P'raps,  now  and  then,  there's  some  honest  people  as 
likes  it,"  observed  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  ruminative  tone, 
"  but  I  never  heerd  o'  one  as  I  can  call  to  mind,  'cept  the 
little  dirty-faced  man  in  the  brown  coat;  and  that  w^s 
force  of  habit." 

"  And  who  was  he?/'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wy,  that's  iust  the  werry  point  as  nobody  never 
know'd,"  replied  Sam. 


100  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^^But  what  did  he  do?" 

"  Wy,  he  did  wot  many  men  as  has  been  much  better 
know'd  has  done  in  their  time,  sir,"  replied  Sam;  ^^he 
run  a  match  agin  the  constable,  and  vun  it." 

^^In  other  words,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^'  he 
got  into  debt?" 

"  Just  that,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  "  and  in  course  o'  time  he 
come  here  in  consekens.  It  warn't  much — execution  for 
nine  pound  nothin',  multiplied  by  five  for  costs;  but 
hows'ever  here  he  stopped  for  seventeen  year.  If  he 
got  any  wrinkles,  in  his  face,  they  was  stopped  up  vith 
the  dirt,  for  botlf  the  dirty  face  and  the  brown  coat  wos 
just  the  same  at  the  end  o'  that  time  as  they  wos  at  the 
beginnin'.  He  wos  a  worry  peaceful,  inoffendin'  little 
creetur,  and  was  alvays  a  bustlin'  about  for  somebody, 
or  play  in'  rackets  and  never  vinnin';  till  at  last  the  turn- 
keys they  got  quite  fond  on  him,  and  he  was  in  the 
lodge  ev'ry  night,  a  chattering  vith  'em,  and  tellin' 
stories,  and  all  that  'ere.  Vun  night  he  wos  in  there 
as  usual,  along  vith  a  worry  old  friend  of  his,  as  wos  on 
the  lock,  ven  he  says  all  of  a  sudden,  '  I  ain't  seen  the 
market  outside.  Bill,'  he  says  (Fleet  Market  wos  there  at 
that  time) — 'I  ain't  seen  the  market  outside.  Bill,' he 
says,  '  for  seventeen  year.'  '  I  know  you  ain't,'  says  the 
turnkey,  smoking  his  pipe.  '  I  should  like  to  see  it  for  a 
minit,  Bill,'  he  says.  •Worry  probable,'  says  the  turn- 
key, smoking  his  pipe  worry  fierce,  and  making  believe 
he  warn't  up  to  wot  the  little  man  wanted.  '  Bill,'  says 
the  little  man,  more  abrupt  than  afore,  '  I've  got  the 
fancy  in  my  head.  Let  me  see  the  public  streets  once 
more  afore  I  die;  and  if  I  ain't  struck  with  apoplexy, 
Fll  be  back  in  five  minits  by  the  clock.'  ^  And  wot  'ud 
becom  o'  me  if  you  wos  struck  with  apoplexy? '  said  the 
turnkey.  '  Wy,  says  the  little  creetur,  '  whoever  found 
me,  'ud  bring  me  home,  for  I've  got  my  card  in  my 
pocket.  Bill,'  he  says,  'No.  20,  Coffee-room  Flight: '  and 
that  wos  true,  sure  enough,  for  wen  he  wanted  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  any  new  comer,  he  used  to  pull  out 
a  little  limp  card  vith  them  words  on  it  and  nothin'  else; 
in 'consideration  of  vich,  he  was  alvays  called  Number 
Tventy.  The  turnkey  takes  a  fixed  look  at  him,  and  at 
last  he  says  in  a  solemn  manner,  '  Tventy,'  he  says,  '  I'll 
trust  you;  you  won't  get  your  old  friend  into  trouble.' 
'No,  my  boy;  I  hope  I've  somethin'  better  behind  here/ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


191 


says  the  little  man;  and  as  he  said  it,  he  hit  his  little 
veskit  werry  hard,  and  then  a  tear  started  out  o'  each 
eye,  which  wos  werry  extraordinary,  for  it  wos  sup- 
posed as  water  never  touched  his  face.  He  shook  the 
turnkey  by  the  hand;  out  he  vent — " 

And  never  came  back  again,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Wrong -for  vunce,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  ''for 
back  he  come,  two  minits  afore  the  time,  a  bilin'  with 
rage;  sayin'  how  he'd  been  nearly  run  over  by  a  hackney- 
coach:  that  he  warn't  used  to  it:  and  he  wos  blowed  if 
he  wouldn't  write  to  the  Lord  Mayor.  They  got  him 
pacified  at  last;  and  for  five  years  arter  that  he  never 
even  so  much  as  peeped  out  o'  the  lodge-gate." 

"  At  the  expiration  of  that  time  he  died,  I  suppose," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No,  he  didn't,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  "He  got  a  curiosity 
to  go  and  taste  the  beer  at  a  new  public-house  over  the 
way,  and  it  wos  such  a  werry  nice  parlour  that  he  took 
it  into  his  head  to  go  there  every  night,  which  he  did  for 
a  long  time,  alvays  comin'  back  reg'lar  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  afore  the  gate  shut,  which  wos  all  werry 
snug  and  comfortable.  At  last  he  began  to  get  so 
precious  jolly,  that  he  used  to  forget  how  the  time  vent, 
or  care  nothin'  at  all  about  it,  and  he  vent  on  gettin' 
later  and  later,  till  von  night  his  old  friend  wos  just  a 
shuttin'  the  gate— had  turned  the  key  in  fact — wen  he 
come  up.  '  Hold  hard.  Bill,'  he  says.  '  Wot,  ain't  you 
come  home  yet,  Tventy  ? '  says  the  turnkey,  '  I  thought 
you  was  in  long  ago.'  '  No  I  wasn't,'  says  the  little  man, 
Vith  a  smile.  '  Well  then,  I'll  tell  you  wot  it  is,  my 
friend,'  says  the  turnkey,  openin'  the  gate  werry  slow 
and  sulky,  "it's  my  'pinion  as  you've  got  into  bad  com- 
pany o'  late,  which  I'm  werry  sorry  to  see.  Now,  I 
don't  wish  to  do  nothing  harsh,'  he  says,  '  but  if  you 
can't  confine  yourself  to  steady  circles,  and  find  your 
vay  back  at  reg'lar  hours,  as  sure  as  you're  a  standin' 
there,  I'll  shut  you  out  altogether  ! '  The  little  man 
was  seized  vith  a  wiolent  fit  o'  tremblin',  and  never  vent 
outside  the  prison  walls  arterwards  !  " 

As  Sam  concluded,  Mr.  Pickwick  slowly  retraced  his 
steps  down  stairs.  After  a  few  thoughtful  turns  in  tlie 
Pamted  Ground,  which,  as  it  was  now  dark,  was  nearly 
deserted,  he  intimated  to  Mr.  Welk^r  that  lie  tliought  it 
high  time  for  him  to  withdraw  for  the  night;  requesting 


192 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


him  to  seek  a  bed  in  some  adjacent  public-house,  and 
return  early  in  the  morning  to  make  arrangements  for 
the  removal  of  his  master's  wardrobe  from  the  George 
and  Vulture.  This  request  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  prepared 
to  obey,  with  as  good  grace  as  he  could  assume,  but 
with  a  very  considerable  show  of  reluctance  neverthe- 
less. He  even  went  so  far  as  to  essay  sundry  ineffectual 
hints  regarding  the  expediency  of  stretching  himself  on 
the  gravel  for  that  night;  but  finding  Mr.  Pickwick  ob- 
stinately deaf  to  any  such  suggestions,  finally  withdrew. 

There  is  no  disguising  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pickwick  felt 
very  low-spirited  and  uncomfortable — not  for  lack  of 
society,  for  the  prison  was  very  full,  and  a  bottle  of  wine 
would  at  once  have  purchased  the  utmost  good-fellow- 
ship of  a  few  choice  spirits,  without  any  more  formal 
ceremony  of  introduction;  but  he  was  alone  in  the  coarse 
vulgar  crowd,  and  felt  the  depression  of  spirit  and  sink- 
ing of  heart,  naturally  consequent  upon  the  reflection 
that  he  was  cooped  and  caged  up,  without  a  prospect  of 
liberation.  As  to  the  idea  of  releasing  himself  by  minis- 
tering to  the  sharpness  of  Dodson  and  Fogg,  it  never, 
for  an  instant,  entered  his  thoughts. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  he  turned  again  into  the  coffee- 
room  gallery,  and  walked  slowly  to  and  fro.  The  place 
was  intolerably  dirty,  and  the  smell  of  tobacco-smoke 
perfectly  suffocating.  There  was  a  perpetual  slamming 
and  banging  of  doors  as  the  people  went  in  and  out- 
and  the  noise  of  their  voices  and  footsteps  echoed  and 
re-echoed  through  the  passages  constantly.  A  young 
woman,  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  who  seemed  scarcely 
able  to  crawl,  from  emaciation  and  misery,  was  walking 
up  and  down  the  passage  in  conversation  with  her  hus- 
band, who  had  no  other  place  to  see  her  in.  As  they 
passed  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  could  hear  the  female  sob;  and 
once  she  burst  into  such  a  passion  of  grief  that  she  was 
compelled  to  lean  against  the  wall  for  support,  while 
the  man  took  the  child  in  his  arms,  and  tried  to  soothe 
her. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  heart  was  really  too  full  to  bear  it,  and 
he  went  up  stairs  to  bed. 

Now,  although  the  warden's  room  was  a  very  uncom- 
fortable one— being,  in  every  point  of  decoration  and 
convenience,  several  hundred  degrees  inferior  to  the 
common  infirmary  of  a  county  jail — it  had  at  present 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


193 


the  merit  of  being  wholly  deserted,  save  by  Mr.  Pick- 
wick himself.  So  Tie  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  his  little 
iron  bedstead,  and  began  to  wonder  how  much  a  year 
the  warden  made  out  of  the  dirty  room.  Having  satis- 
fied himself,  by  mathematical  calculation,  that  the 
apartment  was  about  equal  in  annual  value  to  the  free- 
hold of  a  small  street  in  the  suburbs  of  London,  he  took 
to  wondering  what  possible  temptation  could  have  in- 
duced a  dingy-looking  fly  •  that  was  crawling  over  his 
pantaloons  to  come  into  a  close  prison  when  he  had  the 
choice  of  so  many  airy  situations — a  course  of  medita- 
tion which  led  him  to  the  irresistible  conclusion  that  the 
insect  was  mad.  After  settling  this  point,  he  began  to 
be  conscious  that  he  was  getting  sleepy;  whereupon  he 
took  his  nightcap  out  of  the  pocket  in  which  he  had  had 
the  precaution  to  stow  it  in  the  morning,  and,  leisurely 
undressing  himself,  got  into  bed,  and  fell  asleep. 

''Bravo!  Heel  over  toe — cut  and  shuffle — pay  away 
at  it.  Zephyr!  I'm  smothered  if  the  Opera  House  isn't 
your  proper  hemisphere.  Keep  it  up.  Hooray!  "  These 
expressions,  delivered  in  a  most  boisterous  tone,  and 
accompanied  with  loud  peals  of  laughter,  roused  Mr. 
Pickwick  from  one  of  those  sound  slumbers  which, 
lasting  in  reality  some  half  hour,  seem  to  the  sleeper  to 
have  been  protracted  for  three  weeks  or  a  month. 

The  voice  had  no  sooner  ceased  than  the  room  was 
shaken  with  such  violence  that  the  windows  rattled 
in  their  frames,  and  the  bedsteads  trembled  again. 
Mr.  Pickwick  started  up,  and  remained  for  some 
minutes  fixed  in  mute  astonishment  at  the  scene  before 
him. 

On  the  floor  of  the  room  a  man  in  a  broad-skirted 
green  coat,  with  corduroy  knee  smalls  and  grey  cotton 
stockings,  was  performing  the  most  popular  steps  of  a 
hornpipe,  with  a  slang  and  burlesque  caricature  of  grace 
and  lightness  which,  combined  with  the  very  appropri- 
ate character  of  his  costume,  was  inexpressibly  absurd. 
Another  man,  evidently  very  drunk,  who  had  probably 
been  tumbled  into  bed  by  his  companions,  was  sitting 
up  between  the  sheets,  warbling  as  much  as  he  could 
recollect  of  a  comic  song,  with  the  most  intensely  senti- 
mental feeling  and  expression;  while  a  third,  seated  on 
one  of  the  bedsteads,  was  applauding  both  performers 
with  the  air  of  a  profound  connoisseur,  and  encouraging 


194 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


them  by  such  ebullitions  of  feeling  as  had  already 
roused  Mr.  Pickwick  from  his  sleep. 

This  last  man  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  a  class  of 
gentry  which  never  can  be  seen  in  full  perfection  but  in 
such  places;  they  may  be  met  with,  in  an  imperfect 
state,  occasionally,  about  stable  yards  and  public- 
houses,  but  they  never  attain  their  full  bloom  except  in 
these  hot-beds,  which  would  almost  seem  to  be  consid- 
erately provided  by  the  Legislature  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  rearing  them. 

He  was  a  tall  fellow,  with  an  olive  complexion,  long 
dark  hair,  and  very  thick  bushy  whiskers  meeting  under 
his  chin.  He  wore  no  neckerchief,  as  he  had  been  play- 
ing rackets  all  day,  and  his  open  shirt  collar  displayed 
their  full  luxuriance.  On  his  head  he  wore  one  of  the 
common  eighteen-penny  French  skull  caps,  with  a 
gaudy  tassel  dangling  therefrom,  very  happily  in  keep- 
ing with  a  common  Fustian  coat.  His  legs — which, 
being  long,  were  afflicted  with  weakness — graced  a  pair 
of  Oxford-mixture  trousers,  made  to  sho^y  the  full  sym- 
metry of  those  limbs.  Being  somewhat  negligently 
braced,  however,  and,  moreover,  but  imperfectly  but- 
toned, they  fell  in  a  series  of  not  the  most  graceful  folds 
over  a  pair  of  shoes  sufficiently  down  at  heel  to  display 
a  pair  of  very  soiled  white  stockings.  There  was  a 
rakish,  vagabond  smartness,  and  a  kind  of  boastful  ras- 
cality, about  the  whole  man  that  was  worth  a  mine  of 
gold. 

This  figure  was  the  first  to  perceive  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  lookmg  on,  upon  which  he  winked  to  the  Zephyr, 
and  entreated  him,  with  mock  gravity,  not  to  wake  the 
gentleman. 

"  Why,  bless  the  gentleman's  honest  heart  and  soul! " 
said  the  Zephyr,  turning  round  and  affecting  the  ex- 
tremity of  surprise;  ^^the  gentleman  is  awake.  Hem, 
Shakspeare!  How  do  you  do,  sir?  How  is  Mary  and 
Sarah,  sir?  and  the  dear  old  lady  at  home,  sir — eh,  sir? 
Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  put  my  compliments  into 
the  first  little  parcel  you're  sending  that  way,  sir,  and 
say  that  I  would  have  sent  'em  before,  only  I  was  afraid 
they  might  be  broken  in  the  wagon,  sir?  " 

"  Don't  overwhelm  the  gentleman  with  ordinary  civili- 
ties when  you  see  he's  anxious  to  have  something  to 
drink,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  whiskers,  with  a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


195 


jocose  air.  Why  don't  you  ask  the  gentleman  what 
he'll  take?" 

Dear  me — I  quite  forgot/'  replied  the  other.  "  What 
will  you  take,  sir?  Will  you  take  port  wine,  sir,  or 
sherry  wine,  sir?  I  can  recommend  the  ale,  sir;  or  per- 
haps you'd  like  to  taste  the  porter,  sir?  Allow  me  to 
have  the  felicity  of  hanging  up  your  night-cap,  sir." 

With  this  the  speaker  snatched  that  article  of  dress 
from  Mr.  Pickwick's  head  and  fixed  it  in  a  twinkling  on 
that  of  the  drunken  man,  who,  firmly  impressed  with  the 
belief  that  he  was  delighting  a  numerous  assembly,  con- 
tinued to  hammer  away  at  the  comic  song  in  the  most 
melancholy  strains  imaginable. 

Taking  a  man's  night-cap  from  his  brow  by  violent 
means  and  adjusting  it  on  the  head  of  an  unknown  gen- 
tleman of  dirty  exterior,  however  ingenious  a  witticism 
in  itself,  is  unquestionably  one  of  those  which  come 
under  the  denomination  of  practical  jokes.  Viewing  the 
matter  precisely  in  this  light,  Mr.  Pickwick,  without  the 
slightest  intimation  of  his  purpose,  sprang  vigourously 
out  of  bed;  struck  the  Zephyr  so  smart  a  blow  in  the 
chest  as  to  deprive  him  of  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
commodity  which  sometimes  bears  his  name;  and  then 
recapturing  his  night-cap  boldly  placed  himself  in  an 
attitude  of  defence. 

''Now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gasping  no  less  from  ex- 
citement than  from  the  expenditure  of  so  much  energy, 
' '  come  on — both  of  you — both  of  you !"  With  this  liberal 
invitation  the  worthy  gentleman  communicated  a  revolv- 
ing motion  to  his  clenched  fists  by  way  of  appalling  his 
antagonists  with  a  display  of  science. 

It  might  have  been  Mr.  Pickwick's  very  unexpected 
gallantry,  or  it  might  have  been  the  complicated  manner 
in  which  he  had  got  himself  out  of  bed  and  fallen,  all  in 
a  mass,  upon  the  hornpipe  man,  that  touched  his  adver- 
saries. Touched  they  were;  for,  instead  of  then  and 
there  making  an  attempt  to  commit  manslaughter,  as 
Mr.  Pickwick  imjjlicitly  believed  they  would  have  done, 
they  paused,  stared  at  each  other  a  short  time,  and  finally 
laughed  outright. 

"  Well,  you're  a  trump,  and  Hike  you  all  the  better  for 
it,"  said  the  Zephyr.  ''Now  jump  into  bed  again,  or 
you'll  catch  the  rheumatics.  No  malice,  I  hope?"  said 
the  man,  extending  a  hand  tlie  size  of  the  yellow  clump 


196  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

of  fingers  which  sometimes  swings  over  a  glover's 
door. 

Certainly  not/^  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  alac- 
rity; for,  now  that  the  excitement  was  over,  he  began  to 
feel  rather  cool  about  the  legs. 

Allow  me  the  honour,  sir?"  said  the  gentleman  with 
the  whiskers,  presenting  his  dexter  hand,  and  aspirat- 
ing the  h. 

^^With  much  pleasure,  sir,'' said  Mr.  Pickwick;  and 
having  executed  a  very  long  and  solemn  shake,  he  got 
into  bed  again. 

''My  name  is  Smangle,  sir,"  said  the  man  with  the 
whiskers. 

''Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Mine  is  Mivins,"  said  the  man  in  the  stockings. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Hem,"  coughed  Mr.  Smangle. 

"Did  you  speak,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"No,  I  did  not,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Smangle. 

"  I  thought  you  did,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

All  this  was  very  genteel  and  pleasant;  and,  to  make 
matters  still  more  comfortable,  Mr.  Smangle  assured  Mr. 
Pickwick  a  great  many  times  that  he  entertained  a  very 
high  respect  for  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman;  which 
sentiment,  indeed,  did  him  infinite  credit,  as  he  could 
be  in  no  wise  supposed  to  understand  them. 

"  Are  you  going  through  the  Court,  sir?"  inquired  Mr. 
Smangle. 

"  Through  the  what?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Through  the  Court — Portugal  Street — the  Court  for 
the  Relief  of  ,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  No,  I  am  not." 

"Going  out,  perhaps?"  suggested  Mivins. 

"I  fear  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "I refuse  to  pay 
some  damages,  and  am  here  in  consequence." 

"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Smangle,  "paper  has  been  my  ruin." 

"A  stationer,  I  presume,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in- 
nocently. 

"  Stationer!  No,  no;  confound  and  curse  me! — not  so 
low  as  that.  No  trade.  When  I  say  paper,  I  mean 
bills." 

"Oh,  you  use  the  word  in  that  sense.  I  see,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"Damme!  a  gentleman  must  expect  reveries,"  said 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


197 


Smangle.  What  of  that?  Here  am  I  in  the  Fleet  Prison. 
Well;  good.  What  then?  I'm  none  the  worse  for  that, 
am  I?" 

Not  a  bit/'  replied  Mr.  Mivins.  And  he  was  quite 
right;  for,  so  far  from  Mr.  Smangle  being  any  the  worse 
for  it,  he  was  something  the  better,  inasmuch  as  to 
qualify  himself  for  the  place  he  had  attained  gratuitous 
possession  of  certain  articles  of  jewellery,  which, 
long  before  that,  had  found  their  way  to  the  pawn- 
broker's. 

''Well,  but  come,"  said  Mr.  Smangle;  ''this  is  dry 
work.  Let's  rinse  our  mouths  with  a  drop  of  burnt 
sherry;  the  last  comer  shall  stand  it,  Mivins  shall  fetch 
it,  and  I'll  help  to  drink  it.  That's  a  fair  and  gentle- 
manlike division  of  labour,  anyhow — curse  me." 

Unwilling  to  hazard  another  quarrel,  Mr.  Pickwick 
gladly  assented  to  the  proposition,  and  consigned  the 
money  to  Mr.  Mivins,  who,  as  it  was  nearly  eleven 
o'clock:,  lost  no  time  in  repairing  to  the  coffee-room  on 
his  errand. 

"I  say,"  whispered  Smangle,  the  moment  his  friend 


"Half  a  sovereign,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"He's  a  devilish  pleasant,  gentlemany  dog,"  said  Mr. 
Smangle;  "infernal  pleasant.  I  don't  know  anybody 
more  so;  but — "  Here  Mr.  Smangle  stopped  short,  and 
shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"You  don't  think  there  is  any  probability  of  his  ap- 
propriating the  money  to  his  own  use?"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wicK. 

"Oh,  no — mind,  I  don't  say  that;  I  expressly  say  that 
he's  a  devilish  gentlemanly  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Smangle. 
"  But  I  think,  perhaps,  if  somebody  went  down,  just  to 
see  that  he  didn't  dip  his  beak  into  the  jug  by  accident, 
or  make  some  confounded  mistake  in  losing  the  money 
as  he  came  up  stairs,  it  would  be  as  well.  Here,  you 
sir,  just  run  down  stairs  and  look  after  that  gentleman, 
will  you?" 

This  request  was  addressed  to  a  little,  timid-looking, 
nervous  man,  whose  appearance  bespoke  great  poverty, 
and  who  had  been  crouching  on  his  bedstead  all  this 
while,  apf)arently  quite  stupified  by  the  novelty  of  his 
situation. 

"You  know  where  the  coffee-room  is,"  said  Smangle; 


had  left  the  room,  "what  did 


198 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


just  run  down  and  tell  that  gentleman  youVecome  to 
help  him  up  with  the  jug.  Or — stop — I'll  tell  you  what 
— I'll  tell  you  how  we'll  do  him/'  said  Smangle,  with  a 
cunning  look. 

^^How,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Send  down  word  that  he's  to  spend  the  change  in 
cigars.    Capital  thought.    Run  and  tell  him  that;  d'ye 
hear?    They  shan't  be  wasted,"  continued  Smangle, 
turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  Fll  smoke  'em." 

This  manoeuvring  was  so  exceedingly  ingenious,  and, 
withal,  performed  with  such  immovable  composure  and 
coolness,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  would  have  had  no  wish  to 
disturb  it,  even  if  he  had  had  the  power.  In  a  short 
time  Mr.  Mivins  returned,  bearing  the  sherry,  which 
Mr.  Smangle  dispensed  in  two  little  cracked  mugs:  con- 
siderately remarking,  with  reference  to  himself,  that  a 
gentleman  must  not  be  particular  under  such  circum- 
stances, and,  for  his  part,  he  was  not  too  proud  to  drink 
out  of  the  jug:  in  which,  to  show  his  sincerity,  he  forth- 
with pledged  the  company  in  a  draught  which  half 
emptied  it. 

An  excellent  understanding  having  been  by  these 
means  promoted,  Mr.  Smangle  proceeded  to  entertain 
his  hearers  with  a  relation  of  divers  romantic  adven- 
tures in  which  he  had  been  from  time  to  time  engaged: 
involving  various  interesting  anecdotes  of  a  thorough- 
bred horse,  and  a  magnificent  Jewess,  both  of  surpass- 
ing beauty,  and  much  coveted  by  the  nobility  and  gen- 
try of  these  kingdoms. 

Long  before  these  elegant  extracts  from  the  biography 
of  a  gentleman  were  concluded,  Mr.  Mivins  had  betaken 
himself  to  bed,  and  set  in  snoring  for  the  night:  leaving 
the  timid  stranger  and  Mr.  Pickwick  to  the  full  benefit 
of  Mr.  Smangle's  experiences. 

Nor  were  the  two  last-named  gentlemen  as  much  edi- 
fied as  they  might  have  been  by  the  moving  passages 
which  were  narrated.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  in  a 
state  of  slumber  for  some  time,  when  he  had  a  faint  per- 
ception of  the  drunken  man  bursting  out  afresh  with 
the  comic  song,  and  receiving  from  Mr.  Smangle  a  gentle 
intimation,  through  the  medium  of  the  water  jug,  that 
his  audience  were  not  musically  disposed.  He  then 
once  again  dropped  off  to  sleep,  with  a  confused  con- 
sciousness that  Mr.  Smangle  was  still  engaged  in  relat- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  199 

ing  a  long  story,  the  chief  point  of  which  appeared  to 
be  that,  on  some  occasion  particularly  stated  and  set 
forth,  he  had  ''done  "  a  bill  and  a  gentleman  at  the  same 
time. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ILLUSTRATIVE,  LIKE  THE  PRECEDING  ONE,  OF  THE  OLD 
PROVERB,  THAT  ADVERSITY  BRINGS  A  MAN  ACQUAINTED 
WITH  STRANGE  BED-FELLOWS.  LIKEWISE  CONTAINING 
MR.  PICKWICK'S  EXTRAORDINARY  AND  STARTLING  AN- 
NOUNCEMENT TO  MR.  SAMUEL  WELLER. 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  his  eyes  next  morning, 
the  first  object  upon  which  they  rested  was  Samuel 
Weller,  seated  upon  a  small  black  portmanteau,  intently 
regarding,  apparently  in  a  condition  of  profound 
abstraction,  the  stately  figure  of  the  dashing  Mr. 
Smangle:  while  Mr.  Smangle  himself,  who  was  already 
partially  dressed,  was  seated  on  his  bedstead,  occupied 
in  the  desperately  hopeless  attempt  of  staring  Mr.  Weller 
out  of  countenance.  We  say  desperately  hopeless, 
because  Sam,  with  a  comprehensive  gaze,  which  took  in 
Mr.  Smangle's  cap,  feet,  head,  face,  legs  and  whiskers, 
all  at  the  same  time,  continued  to  look  steadily  on,  with 
every  demonstration  of  lively  satisfaction,  but  with  no 
more  regard  to  Mr.  Smangle's  personal  sentiments  on 
the  subject  than  lie  would  have  display ed  had  he  been 
inspecting  a  wooden  statue,  or  a  straw-embowelled  Guy 
Faux. 

Well,  will  you  know  me  again?"  said  Mr.  Smangle, 
with  a  frown. 

I'd  svear  to  you  anyveres,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  cheer- 
fully. 

"  Don't  be  impertinent  to  a  gentleman,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Smangle. 

"  Not  on  no  account,"  replied  Sam.  ^'If  you'll  tell  me 
wen  he  wakes,  I'll  be  upon  the  worry  best  extra-super 
behavior!"  This  observation,  having  a  remote  tendency 
to  imply  that  Mr.  Smangle  was  no  gentleman,  kindled 
his  ire. 

''Mivins!"  said  Mr.  Smangle,  with  a  passionate  air, 

I 


200  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

'^What's the  office?"  replied  that  gentleman  from  his 
couch. 

"  Who  the  devil  is  this  fellow?" 
Gad/'  said  Mr.  Mivins,  looking  lazily  out  from  under 
the  bed  clothes,  "  I  ought  to  ask  you  that.    Hasn't  he 
any  business  here?" 

''No,"  replied  Mr.  Smangle. 
Then  knock  him  down-stairs,  and  tell  him  not  to  pre 
sume  to  get  up  till  I  come  and  kick  him,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Mivins:  with  this  prompt  advice  that  excellent  gentle- 
man again  betook  himself  to  slumber. 

The  conversation  exhibiting  these  unequivocal  symp- 
toms of  verging  on  the  personal,  Mr.  Pickwick  deemed 
it  a  fit  point  at  which  to  interpose. 

*'Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Sir,"  rejoined  that  gentleman. 

^'  Has  anything  new  occurred  since  last  night?" 

''  Nothin'  partickler,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  glancing  at  Mr. 
Smangle's  whiskers;  ''the  late  prewailance  of  a  close 
and  confined  atmosphere  has  been  rayther  favourable 
to  the  growth  of  veeds  of  an  alarmin'  and  sanguinary 
natur;  but  with  that  'ere  exception  things  is  quiet 
enough. 

"  I  shall  get  up,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "give  me  some 
clean  things." 

Whatever  hostile  intentions  Mr.  Smangle  might  have 
entertained,  his  thoughts  were  speedily  diverted  by  the 
unpacking  of  the  portma^nteau;  the  contents  of  which 
appeared  to  impress  him  at  once  with  a  most  favourable 
opinion,  not  only  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  but  of  Sam  also,  who, 
he  took  an  early  opportunity  of  declaring,  in  a  tone  of 
voice  loud  enough  for  the  eccentric  personage  to  over- 
hear, was  a  regular  thorough-bred  original,  and  con- 
sequently the  very  man  after  his  own  heart.  As  to  Mr. 
Pickwick,  the  affection  he  conceived  for  him  knew  no 
limits. 

"Now,  is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  my  dear 
sir?"  said  Smangle. 

"  Nothing  that  i  am  aware  of,  I  am  obliged  to  you," 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"No  linen  that  you  want  to  send  to  the  washer- 
woman's? I  know  a  delightful  washerwoman  outside, 
that  comes  for  my  things  twice  a  week;  and,  by  Jove! 
—how  devilish  lucky! — this  is  the  very  day  she  calls. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


201 


Shall  I  put  any  of  those  little  things  up  with  mine? 
Don't  say  anything  about  the  trouble.  Confound  and 
curse  it!  if  one  gentleman  under  a  cloud  is  not  to  put 
himself  a  little  out  of  the  way  to  assist  another  gentle- 
man in  the  same  condition,  what's  human  nature?" 

Thus  spake  Mr.  Smangle,  edging  himself  meanwhile 
as  near  as  possible  to  the  portmanteau,  and  beaming 
forth  looks  of  the  most  fervent  and  disinterested  friend- 
ship. 

"  There's  nothing  you  want  to  give  out  for  the  man  to 
brush,  my  dear  creature,  is  there?"  resumed  Smangle. 

''Nothin'  whatever,  my  fine  feller,"  rejoined  Sam^ 
taking  the  reply  into  his  own  mouth.  P'raps  if 
vun  of  us  wos  to  brush,  without  troubling  the  man,  it 
'ud  been  more  agreeable  for  all  parties,  as  the  school- 
master said  wen  the  young  gentleman  objected  to  being 
flogged  by  the  butler." 

"  And  there's  nothing  that  I  can  send  in  my  little  box 
to  the  washerwoman's,  is  there?"  said  Smangle,  turning 
from  Sam  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  air  of  some  dis- 
comfiture. 

Nothin'  whatever,  sir,"  retorted  Sam;  ''I'm  afeerd 
the  little  box  must  be  chock  full  o'  your  own  as  it  is." 

This  sp^ch  was  accompanied  with  such  a  very  ex^ 
pressive  look  at  that  particular  portion  of  Mr.  Smangle's 
attire,  by  the  appearance  of  which  the  skill  of  laun* 
dresses  in  getting  up  gentlemen's  linen  is  generally  tested, 
that  he  was  fain  to  turn  upon  his  heel,  and,  for  the 
present  at  any  rate,  to  give  up  all  design  on  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's purse  and  wardrobe.  He  accordingly  retired  in 
dudgeon  to  the  racket-ground,  where  he  made  a  light 
and  wholesome  breakfast  on  a  couple  of  the  cigars 
which  had  been  purchased  on  the  previous  night. 

Mr.  Mivins,  who  was  no  smoker,  and  whose  account 
for  small  articles  of  chandlery  had  also  reached  down 
to  the  bottom  of  the  slate,  and  been  ''carried  over"  to 
the  other  side,  remained  in  bed,  and,  in  his  own  words, 
''took  it  out  in  sleep." 

After  breakfasting  in  a  small  closet  attached  to  the 
coffee-room,  which  bore  the  imposing  title  of  the  Snug- 
gery: the  temporary  inmate  of  which,  in  consideration 
of  a  small  additional  charge,  had  the  unspeakable  ad- 
vantage of  overhearing  all  the  conversation  in  the 
coffee-room  aforesaid:  and  after  despatching  Mr.Weller 


202  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

on  some  necessary  errands:  Mr.  Pickwick  repaired  to 
the  Lodge  to  consult  Mr.  Roker  concerning  his  future 
accommodation. 

''Accommodation, eh?"  said  that  gentleman,  consulting 
a  large  book.  ''Plenty  of  that,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Your 
chummage  ticket  will  be  on  twenty-seven  in  the  third.'' 

"  Oh,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  My  what,  did  you  say?" 

"Your  chummage  ticket,"  replied  Mr.  Roker;  "you're 
up  to  that?" 

"  jSTot  quite."  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

"Why,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  "it's  as  plain  as  Salisbury. 
You'll  have  a  chummage  ticket  upon  twenty-seven  in  the 
third,  and  them  as  is  in  the  room  will  be  your  chums." 

"Are  there  many  of  them?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
dubiously. 

"Three,"  replied  Mr.  Roker. 

Mr.  Pickwick  coughed. 

"  One  of  'em's  a  parson,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  filling  up  a 
little  piece  of  paper  as  he  spoke;  "another's  a  butcher." 
"  Eh?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  butcher,"  repeated  Mr.  Roker,  giving  the  nib  of 
his  pen  a  tap  on  the  desk  to  cure  it  of  a  disinclination  to 
mark.  "What  a  thorough-paced  goer  he  used  to  be, 
sure-ly!  You  remember  Tom  Martin,  Neddy?"  said 
Roker,  appealing  to  another  man  in  the  Lodge,  who  was 
paring  the  mud  off  his  shoes  with  a  five-and-twenty 
bladed  pocket  knife. 

"  /  should  think  so,"  replied  the  party  addressed,  with 
a  strong  emphasis  on  the  personal  pronoun. 

"Bless  my  dear  eyes!"  said  Mr.  Roker,  shaking  his 
head  slowly  from  side  to  side,  and  gazing  abstractedly 
out  of  the  grated  window  before  him,  as  if  he  were  fondly 
recalling  some  peaceful  scene  in  his  early  youth;  "it 
seems  but  yesterday  that  he  whopped  the  coal-heaver 
down  Fox-under-the-Hill  by  the  wharf  there.  I  think  I 
can  see  him  now,  a  coming  up  the  Strand  between  the 
two  street-keepers,  a  little  sobered  by  the  bruising,  with 
a  patch  o'  winegar  and  brown  paper  over  his  right  eye- 
lid, and  that  'ere  lovely  bulldog,  as  pinned  the  little  boy 
arterwards,  a  following  at  his  heels.  What  a  rum  thing 
Time  is,  ain't  it,  Neddy?" 

The  gentleman  to  whom  these  observations  were  ad- 
dressed, who  appeared  of  a  taciturn  and  thoughtful  cast, 
merely  echoed  the  inquiry;  Mr.  Roker,  shaking  off  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


203 


Eoetical  and  gloomy  train  of  thought  into  which  he  had 
een  betrayed,  descended  to  the  common  business  of 
life,  and  resumed  his  pen. 

Do  you  know  what  the  third  gentleman  is?"  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick,  not  very  much  gratified  by  this  descrip- 
tion of  his  future  associates. 

"  What  is  that  Simpson,  Neddy?"  said  Mr.  Roker,  turn- 
ing to  his  companion. 

What  Simpson?"  said  Neddy. 
"  Why  him  in  twenty -seven  in  the  third,  that  this  gen- 
tleman's going  to  be  chummed  on." 

Oh,  him!"  replied  Neddy;  "he's  nothing  exactly.  He 
was  a  horse  chaunter:  he's  a  leg  now." 

"Ah,  so  I  thought,"  rejoined  Mr.  Roker,  closing  the 
book,  and  placing  the  small  piece  of  paper  in  Mr.  Pick-^ 
wick's  hands.    "  That's  the  ticket,  sir." 

Very  much  perplexed  by  this  summary  disposition  of 
his  person,  Mr.  Pickwick  walked  back  into  the  prison, 
revolving  in  his  mind  what  he  had  better  do.  Convinced, 
however,  that  before  he  took  any  other  steps  it  would 
be  advisable  to  see,  and  hold  converse  with,  the  three 
gentlemen  with  whom  it  was  proposed  to  quarter  him, 
he  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  the  third  flight. 

After  groping  about  in  the  gallery  for  some  time,  at- 
tempting in  the  dim  light  to  decipher  the  numbers  on 
the  different  doors,  he  at  length  appealed  to  a  potboy, 
who  happened  to  be  pursuing  his  morning  occupation  of 
gleaning  for  pewter. 

"  Which  is  twenty-seven,  my  good  fellow?"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Five  doors  further  on,"  replied  the  potboy.  "  There's 
the  likeness  of  a  man  being  hung,  smoking  a  pipe  the 
while,  chalked  outside  the  door." 

Guided  by  this  direction,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded 
slowly  along  the  gallery,  until  he  encountered  the  "por- 
trait of  a  gentleman,"  above  described,  upon  whose 
countenance  he  tapped,  v/ith  the  knuckles  of  his  fore- 
finger— gently  at  first,  and  then  more  audibly.  After 
repeating  this  process  several  times  without  effect,  he 
ventured  to  open  the  door  and  peep  in. 

There  was  only  one  man  in  the  room,  and  he  was  lean- 
ing out  of  the  window  as  far  as  he  could  without  overbal- 
ancing himself,  endeavouring,  with  great  perseverence, 
to  spit  upon  the  crown  of  the  hat  of  a  personal  friend  on 


204 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


the  parade  below.  As  neither  speaking,  coughing,  sneez- 
^  ing,  knocking,  nor  any  other  ordinary  mode  of  attracting 
attention,  made  this  person  aware  of  the  presence  of  a 
visitor,  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  some  delay,  stepped ^  up  to 
the  window,  and  pulled  him  gently  by  the  coat-tail.  The 
individual  brought  in  his  head  and  shoulders  with  great 
swiftness,  and  surveying  Mr.  Pickwick  from  head  to 
foot,  demanded  in  a  surly  tone  what  the — something  be- 
ginning with  a  capital  H — he  wanted. 

''I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  consulting  his  ticket, 

I  believe  this  is  twenty-seven  in  the  third." 

"  Well?"  replied  the  gentleman. 
I  have  come  herein  consequence  of  receiving  this 
bit  of  paper,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^'Hand  it  over,"  said  the  gentleman. 

Mr.  Pickwick  complied. 

"  I  think  Roker  might  have  chummed  you  somewhere 
else,"  said  Mr.  Simpson  (for  it  was  the  leg),  after  a  very 
discontented  sort  of  a  pause. 

Mr.  Pickwick  thought  so  also;  but,  unddr  all  the  cir* 
cumstances,  he  considered  it  a  matter  of  sound  policy  to 
be  silent. 

Mr.  Simpson  mused  for  a  few  moments  after  this,  and 
then,  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  window,  gave  a  shrill 
whistle,  and  pronounced  some  word  aloud  several  times. 
Whatthe  word  was,  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not^istinguish; 
but  he  rather  inferred  that  it  must  be  some  nickname 
which  distinguished  Mr.  Martin:  from  the  fact  of  a  great 
number  of  gentlemen  on  the  ground  below  immediately 
proceeding  to  cry  ''Butcher!"  in  imitation  of  the  tone 
in  which  that  useful  class  of  society  are  wont,  diurnally, 
to  make  their  presence  known  at  area  railings. 

Subsequent  occurrences  confirmed  the  accuracy  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's  impression;  for,  in  a  few  seconds,  a  gentle- 
man, prematurely  broad  for  his  years:  clothed  in  a  pro-' 
fessional  blue  jean  frock,  and  top-boots  with  circular 
toes:  entered  the  room,  nearly  out  of  breath,  closely 
followed  by  another  gentleman  in  very  shabby  black, 
and  a  seal-skin  cap.  The  latter  gentleman,  who  fastened 
his  coat  all  the  way  up  to  his  chin  by  means  of  a  pin  and 
a  button  alternately,  had  a  very  coarse  red  face,  and 
looked  like  a  drunken  chaplain,  which,  indeed,  he  was. 

These  two  gentlemen  having  by  turns  perused  Mr. 
Pickwick's  billet,  the  one  expressed  his  opinion  that  it 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


205 


was  "  a  rig,"  and  the  other  his  conviction  that  it  was  "  a 
go."  Having  recorded  trheir  feelings  in  these  very  intel- 
ligible terms,  they  looked  at  *Mr.  Pickwick  and  each 
other  in  awkward  silence. 

"  It's  an  aggravating  thing,  just  as  we  got  the  beds  so 
snug,"  said  the  chaplain,  looking  at  three  dirty  mat- 
trasses,  each  rolled  up  in  a  blanket:  which  occupied  one 
corner  of  the  room  during  the  day,  and  formed  a  kind 
of  slab,  on  which  were  placed  an  old  cracked  basin, 
ewer,  and  soap-dish,  of  common  yellow  earthenware, 
with  a  blue  flower:    very  aggravating." 

Mr.  Martin  expressed  the  same  opinion,  in  rather 
stronger  terms;  Mr.  Simpson,  after  having  let  a  variety 
of  expletive  adjectives  loose  upon  society  without  any 
substantive  to  accompany  them,  tucked  up  his  sleeves, 
and  began  to  wash  the  greens  for  dinner. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  eye- 
ing the  room,  which  was  filthily  dirty,  and  smelt  intol- 
erably close.  There  was  no  vestige  of  either  carpet, 
curtain,  or  blind.  There  was  not  even  a  closet  in  it. 
Unquestionably  there  were  but  few  things  to  put  away, 
if  there  had  been  one;  but,  hovv^ever  few  in  number,  or 
small  in  individual  amount,  still  remnants  of  loaves, 
and  pieces  of  cheese,  and  damp  towels,  and  scraps  of 
meat,  and  articles  of  wearing  apparel,  and  mutilated 
crockery,  and  bellov/s  without  nozzles,  and  toasting- 
forks  without  prongs,  do  present  somewhat  of  an  un- 
comfortable appearance  when  they  are  scattered  about 
the  floor  of  a  small  apartment,  which  is  the  common 
sitting  and  sleeping  room  of  three  idle  men. 

I  suppose  this  can  be  managed  somehow,"  said  the 
butcher,  after  a  pretty  long  silence.  ''Wha^twill  joa 
take  to  go  out?"' 

'*I  beg  your  pardon,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  What 
did  you  say?    I  hardly  understand  you." 

What  will  you  take  to  bo  paid  out?  "  said  the  butcher. 

The  regular  clmmmage  is  two-and-six.  Will  you  take 
three  bob?" 

'*And  a  bender,"  suggested  the  clerical  gentleman. 

^"Well,  I  don't  mind  that;  its  only  twopence  apiece 
more,"  said  Mr.  Martin.  ''What  do  you  say  now?  Well 
pay  you  out  for  three-and-sixpence  a  week.  Come!" 

And  stand  a  gallon  of  beer  down,"  chimed  in  Mr, 
Simpson,  ''There!" 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


And  drink  it  on  the  spot/'  said  the  chaplain.  ^^Now!^^ 
^^I  really  am  so  wholly  ignorant  of  the  rules  of  this 
place/'  returned  Mr.  Pickwick*,  ''that  I  do  not  yet  com- 
prehend you.    Can  I  live  anywhere  else?   I  thought  I 
could  not." 

At  this  inquiry  Mr.  Martin  looked,  with  a  countenance 
of  excessive  surprise,  at  his  two  friends,  and  then  each 
gentleman  pointed  with  his  right  thumb  over  his  left 
shoulder.  This  action,  imperfectly  described  in  words 
by  the  very  feeble  term  of  "  over  the  left,"  when  per- 
formed by  any  number  of  ladies  or  gentlemen  who  are 
accustomed  to  act  in  unison,  has  a  very  graceful  and 
airy  effect;  its  expression  is  one  of  light  and  playful 
sarcasm. 

"Can  you  I"  repeated  Mr.  Martin,  with  a  smile  of 
pity. 

"  Well,  if  I  knew  as  little  of  life  as  that,  I'd  eat 
my  hat  and  swallow  the  buckle  whole/'  said  the  clerical 
gentleman. 

"  So  would  I,"  added  the  sporting  one,  solemnly. 

After  this  introductory  preface,  the  three  chums  in- 
formed Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  breath,  that  money  was,  in 
the  Fleet,  just  what  money  was  out  of  it;  that  it  would 
instantly  procure  him  almost  anything  he  desired;  and 
that,  supposing  he  had  no  objection  to  spend  it,  if  he 
only  signified  his  wish  to  have  a  room  to  himself,  he 
might  take  possession  of  one,  furnished  and  fitted  to 
boot,  in  half  an  hour's  time. 

With  this  the  parties  separated,  very  much  to  their 
mutual  satisfaction:  Mr.  Pickwick  once  more  retracing 
his  steps  to  the  Lodge:  and  the  three  companions  ad- 
journing to  the  coffee-room,  there  to  expend  the  five 
shillings  which  the  clerical  gentleman  had,  with  admira- 
ble prudence  and  foresight,  borrowed  of  him  for  the 
purpose. 

"I  knowed  it!"  said  Mr.  Roker,  with  a  chuckle,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  stated  the  object  with  which  he  had  re- 
turned.   ''Didn't  I  say  so,  Neddy?" 

The  philosophical  owner  of  the  universal  penknife 
growled  an  affirmative, 

"I  knowed  you'd  want  a  room  for  yourself,  bless 
you!"  gaid  Mr.  Roker.  "  Let  me  see.  You'll  want  some 
furnitur.  You'll  hire  that  of  me,  I  suppose?  That's  the 
reg'lar  thing/' 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


207 


"With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
There's  a  capital  room  up  in  the  coffee-room  flight, 
that  belongs  to  a  Chancery  prisoner,"  said  Mr.  Roker. 
"  It'll  stand  you  in  a  pound  a  week.    I  suppose  you 
don't  mind  that?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Just  step  there  with  me,"  said  Roker,  taking  up  his 
hat  with  great  alacrity;  '*the  matter's  settled  in  five 
minutes.    Lord!  why  didn't  you  say  at  first  that  you 
was  willing  to  come  down  handsome?" 

The  matter  was  soon  arranged,  as  the  turnkey  had 
foretold!  The  Chancery  prisoner  had  been  there  long 
enough  to  have  lost  friends,  fortune,  home  and  happi- 
ness, and  to  have  acquired  the  right  of  having  a  room 
to  himself.  As  he  laboured,  however,  under  the  incon- 
venience of  often  wanting  a  morsel  of  bread,  he  eagerly 
listened  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  proposal  to  rent  the  apartment; 
and  readily  covenanted  and  agreed  to  yield  him  up  the 
sole  and  undisturbed  possession  thereof,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  weekly  payment  of  twenty  shillings,  from 
which  fund  he  furthermore  contracted  to  pay  out  any 
person  or  persons  that  might  be  chummed  upon  it. 

As  they  struck  the  bargain,  Mr.  Pickwick  surveyed 
him  with  a  painful  interest.  He  was  at  all,  gaunt,  ca- 
daverous man,  in  an  old  great  coat  and  slippers:  with 
sunken  cheeks,  and  a  restless,  eager  eye.  His  lips  were 
bloodless,  and  his  bones  sharp  and  thin.  God  help  him! 
the  iron  teeth  of  confinement  and  privation  had  been 
slowly  filing  him  down  for  twenty  years. 

*'And  where  will  you  live  meanwhile,  sir?"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  as  he  laid  the  amount  of  the  first  week's 
rent,  in  advance,  on  the  tottering  table. 

The  man  gathered  up  the  money  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  replied  that  he  didn't  know  yet;  he  must  go 
and  see  where  he  could  move  his  bed  to. 
•  ''I  am  afraid,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laying  his 
hand  gently  and  compassionately  on  his  arm;  I  am 
afraid  you  will  have  to  live  in  some  noisy,  crowded 
place.  Now,  pray,  consider  this  room  your  own  when 
you  want  quiet,  or  when  any  of  your  friends  come  to 
see  you." 

^'Friends!"  interposed  the  man.  in  a  voice  which  rattled 
in  his  throat.  ''If  I  lay  dead  at  tlie  bottom  of  the 
deepest  mine  in  the  world:  tight  screwed  down  and 


20$  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


soldered  in  my  coffin:  rotting  in  the  dark  and  filthy 
ditch  that  drags  its  slime  along  beneath  the  foundations 
of  this  prison:  I  could  not  be  more  forgotten  or  un- 
heeded than  I  am  here.  I  am  a  dead  man — dead  to 
society,  without  the  pity  they  bestow  on  those  whose 
souls  have  passed  to  judgment.  Friends  to  see  me!  My 
God!  I  have  sunk  from  the  prime  of  life  into  old  age, 
in  tills  place,  and  there  is  not  one  to  raise  his  hand  above 
my  bed,  when  I  lie  deal  upon  it,  and  say,  ^  It  is  a  bless- 
ing he  is  gone!' " 

The  excitement,  which  had  cast  an  unwonted  light 
over  the  man's  face,  while  he  spoke,  subsided  as  he 
concluded;  and,  pressing  his  withered  hands  together 
in  a  hasty  and  disordered  manner,  he  shuffled  from  the 
room. 

"Rides  rather  rusty,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  w^ith  a  smile. 
"Ah!  they're  like  the  elephants;  they  feel  it  now  and 
then,  a.nd  it  makes  'em  wild!" 

Having  made  this  deeply-sympathizing  remark,  Mr. 
Roker  entered  upon  his  arrangements  with  such  expe- 
dition that  in  a  short  time  the  room  was  furnished  with 
a  carpet,  six  chairs,  a  table,  a  sofa  bedstead,  a  tea-kettle, 
and  various  small  articles,  on  hire,  at  the  very  reason- 
able rate  of  seven-and-twenty  shillings  and  sixpence  per 
week. 

"  Now,  is  there  anything  more  we  can  do  for  you?" 
inquired  Mr.  Roker,  looking  round  with  great  satisfac- 
tion, and  gaily  chinking  the  first  week's  hire  in  his 
closed  fist. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  musing 
deeply  for  some  time.  "Are  there  any  people  here  who 
run  on  errands,  and  so  forth?" 

"  Outside,  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Mr.  Roker. 

"Yes;  I  mean  who  are  aBle  to  go  outside.  Not 
prisoners." 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  said  Roker.  "  There's  an  unfortunate  . 
devil,  who  has  got  a  friend  on  the  poor  side,  that's  glad 
to  do  anything  of  that  sort.   He's  been  running  odd  jobs, 
and  that,  for  the  last  two  months.    Shall  I  send  him?" 

"If  you  please,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Stay — no. 
The  poor  side,  you  say?  I  should  like  to  see  it;  I'll  go  to 
him  myself." 

The  poor  side  of  a  debtors'  prison  is,  as  its  name  im- 
ports, that  in  which  the  most  miserable  and  abject  class 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


of  debtors  are  confined.  A  prisoner  having  declared 
upon  the  poor  side,  pays  neither  rent  nor  chununa.ge. 
His  fees,  upon  entering  and  leaving  the  goal,  are  re- 
duced in  amount,  and  he  becomes  entitled  to  a  share  of 
some  small  quantities  of  food:  to  provide  which  a  few 
charitable  persons  have,  from  time  to  time,  left  trifling 
iegacies  in  their  wills.  Most  of  our  readers  will  remem- 
ber that,  until  within  a  very  few  years  past,  there  was  a 
kind  of  iron  cage  in  the  wall  of  the  Fleet  Prison,  within 
which  was  posted  some  man  of  hungry  looks,  who,  from 
time  to  time,  rattled  a  money-box  and  exclaimed,  in  a 
r.^ournful  voice,  "  Praj^  remember  the  poor  debtors." 
The  receipts  of  this  box,  when  there  were  any,  were 
divided  among  the  poor  prisoners:  and  the  men  on  the 
poor  side  relieved  each  other  in  this  degrading  office. 

Although  this  custom  has  been  abolished,  and  the  ca  ge 
is  now  boarded  up,  the  miserable  and  destitute  condition 
of  these  unhappy  persons  remains  the  same.  We  no 
longer  suffer  them  to  appeal  at  the  prison  gates  to  the 
charity  and  compassion  of  the  passers  by,  but  we  still 
leave  unblotted  in  the  leaves  of  our  statute-book,  for  the 
reverence  and  admiration  of  succeeding  ages,  the  just 
and  wholesome  law  which  declares  that  the  sturdy  felon 
shall  be  fed  and  clothed,  and  that  the  penniless "^debtor 
shall  be  left  to  die  of  starvation  and  nakedness.  This  is 
no  fiction.  'Not  a  week  passes  over  our  heads  but,  in 
every  one  of  our  prisons  for  debt,  some  of  these  men 
must  inevitably  expire  in  the  slow  agonies  of  want,  if 
hey  were  not  relieved  by  their  fellow-prisoners. 

Turning  these  things  in  his  mind,  as  he  mounted  the 
narrow  staircase  at  the  foot  of  which  Koker  had  left  him, 
Mr,  Pickwick  gradually  worked  himself  to  the  boiling- 
over  point;  and  so  excited  was  he  with  his  reflections 
on  this  subject  that  he  had  burst  into  the  room  to  which 
lie  had  been  directed,  before  he  liad  any  distinct  recol- 
lection, either  of  the  place  in  which  he  was,  or  of  the  ob- 
ject of  his  visit. 

The  general  asj^ect  of  the  room  recalled  him  to  himself 
at  once;  but  he  had  no  sooner  cast  his  eyes  on  the  figure 
of  a  man  who  was  brooding  over  the  dusty  fire  than, 
letting  his  hat  fall  on  the  floor,  he  stood  perfectly  fixed 
and  immovable  with  astonishment. 

Yes;  in  tattered  garments  and  without  a  coat;  his 
common  calico  sliirt  3^cllov7  and  in  rags;  his  hair  hang- 


21©  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ing  over  his  face;  his  features  changed  with  suffering, 
and  pinched  with  famine;  there  sat  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle: 
his  head  resting  on  his  hand,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
fire,  and  his  whole  appearance  denoting  misery  and 
dejection! 

Near  him,  leaning  listlessly  against  the  wall,  stood  a 
strong-built  countryman,  flicking,  with  a  worn-out 
hunting-whip,  the  top-boot  that  adorned  his  right  foot: 
his  left  being  (for  he  dressed  by  easy  stages)  thrust  into 
an  old  slipper.  Horses,  dogs,  and  drink  had  brought 
him  there,  pell-mell.  There  was  a  rusty  spur  on  the 
solitary  boot,  which  he  occasionally  jerked  into  the 
empty  air:  at  the  same  time  giving  the  boot  a  smart 
blow,  and  muttering  some  of  the  sounds  by  which  a 
sportsman  encourages  his  horse.  He  was  riding,  in 
imagination,  some  desperate  steeplechase  at  that  mo- 
ment. Poor  wretch!  fie  never  rode  a  match  on  the 
swiftest  animal  in  his  costly  stud  with  half  the  speed  at 
which  he  had  torn  along  the  course  that  ended  in  the 
Fleet. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  an  old  man  was  seated 
on  a  small  wooden  box,  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  the 
floor,  and  his  face  settled  into  an  expression  of  the  deep- 
est and  most  hopeless  despair.  A  young  girl — his  little 
granddaughter — was  hanging  about  him;  endeavouring, 
vsrith  a  thousand  childish  devices,  to  engage  his  atten- 
tion; but  the  old  man  neither  saw  nor  heard  her.  The 
voice  that  had  been  music  to  him,  and  the  eyes  that  had 
been  light,  fell  coldly  on  his  senses.  His  limbs  were 
shaken  with  disease,  and  the  palsy  had  fastened  on  his 
mind. 

There  were  two  or  three  other  men  in  the  room,  con- 
gregated in  a  little  knot,  and  noisily  talking  among 
themselves.  There  was  a  lean  and  haggard  woman  too — 
a  prisoner's  wife — v/ho  vs^as  watering  with  great  solici- 
tude the  wretched  stump  of  a  dried-up,  withered  plant, 
which  it  was  plain  to  see  could  never  send  forth  a  green 
leaf  again — too  true  an  emblem,  perhaps,  of  the  oflice 
she  had  come  there  to  discharge. 

Such  were  the  objects  which  presented  themselves  to 
Mr.  Pickwick's  view,  as  he  looked  around  him  in  amaze- 
ment. The  noise  of  some  one  stumb^  ^*ng  hastly  into  the 
room  roused  him.  Turning  his  eyes  towards  the  door, 
they  encountered  the  new  comer;  and  in  him,  through 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  211 

his  rags,  and  dirt,  and  misery,  he  recognized  the  familiar 
features  of  Mr.  Job  Trotter. 

Mr.  Pickwick  !"  exclaimed  Job,  aloud. 
^'Eh?'  said  Jingle,  starting  from  his  seat.  *^Mr. — ! 
So  it  is — queer  place — strange  thing — serves  me  right — 
very."  And  with  this  Mr.  Jingle  thurst  his  hands  into 
the  place  where  his  trousers  pockets  used  to  be,  and 
dropping  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  sunk  back  into  his 
chair. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  affected;  the  two  men  looked  so 
very  miserable.  The  sharp,  involuntary  glance  Jingle 
had  cast  at  a  small  piece  of  raw  loin  of  mutton,  which 
Job  had  brought  in  with  him,  said  more  of  their  re- 
duced state  than  two  hours'  explanation  could  have 
done.    He  looked  mildly  at  Jingle,  and  said: 

"I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  in  private.  Will  you 
step  out  for  an  instant  ? " 

Certainly,"  said  Jingle  rising  hastily.  ^'  Can't  step 
far — no  danger  of  over-walking  yourself  here — Spike 
park — grounds  pretty — romantic,  but  not  extensive — 
open  for  public  inspection — family  always  in  town — 
housekeeper  desperately  careful — very." 

You  have  forgotten  your  coat,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick, 
as  they  walked  out  to  the  staircase,  and  closed  the  door 
after  them 

^"  Eh  ?"  said  Jingle.       Spout — dear    relation — uncle 
Tom — couldn't  help  it — must  eat,  you  know.    Wants  of 
nature — and  all  that." 
What  do  you  mean  ? " 

Gone,  my  dear  sir — last  coat — can't  help  it.  Lived 
on  a  pair  of  boots — whole  fortnight.  Silk  umbrella — 
ivory  handle — week — fact — honour — ask  Job — knows  it." 

^'  Lived  for  three  weeks  upon  a  pair  of  boots,  and  a 
silk  umbrella,  with  an  ivory  handle  ! "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who  had  only  heard  of  such  things  in  ship- 
wrecks, or  read  of  them  in  Constable's  Miscellany. 

"•True,"  said  Jingle,  nodding  his  head.  ''Pawn- 
broker's shop  —  duplicates  here  —  small  sums — mere 
nothing — all  rascals." 

''Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  much  relieved  by  this  ex- 
planation; "  1  understand  you.  You  have  pawned  your 
wardrobe. 

Everything— Job's  too — all  shirts  gone — never  mind 
— saves  washing.     Nothing  soon — lie  in  bed — starve 


212  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

— die — inquest — little  bone-house — poor  prisoner — com- 
mon necessaries — hush  it  up — gentlemen  of  the  jury 
— warden's  tradesmen — keep  it  snug — natural  death 
— coroner's  order — workhouse  funeral — serve  him  right — 
all  over — drop  the  curtain." 

Jingle  delivered  this  singular  summary  of  his  pros- 
I  pects  in  life  with  his  accustomed  volubility,  and  with 
j  various  twitches  of  the  countenance  to  counterfeit 
smiles.  Mr.  Pickwick  easily  perceived  that  his  reckless- 
ness was  assumed,  and  looking  him  full,  but  not  un- 
kindly, in  the  face,  saw  that  his  eyes  were  moist  with 
tears. 

''Good  fellow,"  said  Jingle,  pressing  his  hand,  and 
turning  his  head  away.  Ungrateful  dog — boyish  to 
cry — can't  help  it — bad  fever — weak — ill — hungry.  De- 
served it  all — but  suffered  much — very. "  Wholly  unable 
to  keep  up  appearances  any  longer,  and  perhaps  rendered 
worse  by  the  effort  he  had  made,  the  dejected  stroller 
sat  down  on  the  stairs,  and  covering  his  face  with  his 
hands,  sobbed  like  a  child. 

^'Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  considerable 
emotion,  we'll  see  what  can  be  done,  when  I  know  all 
about  the  matter.    Here,  Job;  where  is  that  fellow  ?' 

''Here,  sir,"  replied  Job,  presenting  himself  on  the 
staircase.  We  have  described  him  by-the-bye,  as 
having  deeply-sunken  eyes,  in  the  best  of  times.  In  his 
present  state  of  want  and  distress,  he  looked  as  if  those 
features  had  gone  out  of  town  altogether. 

"Here,  sir,"  cried  Job. 

"Come  here,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  trying  to  look 
stern,  with  four  large  tears  running  down  his  waistcoat. 
"Take  that,  sir." 

Take  what?  In  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  such  lan- 
guage, it  should  have  been  a  blow.  As  the  world  runs, 
it  ought  to  have  been  a  sound,  hearty  cuff;  for  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  been  duped,  deceived,  and  wronged  by  the 
destitute  outcast,  who  was  now  wholly  in  his  power. 
Must  we  tell  the  truth?  It  was  something  from  Mr. 
Pickwick's  waistcoat-pocket,  which  chinked  as  it  was 
given  into  Job's  hand;  and  the  giving  of  which  somehow 
or  other  imparted  a  sparkle  to  the  eye,  ^nd  a  swelling  to 
the  heart,  of  our  excellent  old  friend,  as  he  hurried 
away. 

Sam  had  returned  when  Mr.  Pickwick  reached  his 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


^13 


own  room,  and  was  inspecting  the  arrangements  that 
had  been  made  for  his  comfort,  with  a  kind  of  grim  sat- 
isf ation  which  was  very  pleasant  to  look  upon.  Having 
a  decided  objection  to  his  master's  being  there  at  all* 
Mr.  Weller  appeared  to  consider  it  a  high  moral  duty 
not  to  appear  too  much  pleased  with  anything  that  was 
done,  said,  suggested,  or  proposed. 

''Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Well,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"Pretty  comfortable  now,  eh,  Sam?" 

"Pretty  veil,  sir,"  responded  Sam,  looking  round  him 
in  a  disparaging  manner. 

"Have  you  seen  Mr.  Tupman  and  our  other  friends?'^ 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  'em,  sir,  and  they're  comin'  to-mor* 
row,  and  wos  werry  much  surprised  to  hear  they  warn't 
to  come  to-day,"  replied  Sam. 

"  You  have  brought  the  things  I  wanted?'* 

Mr.  Weller  in  reply  pointed  to  various  packages  which 
he  had  arranged,  ^s  neatly  as  he  could,  in  a  corner  of 
the  room. 

'#  Very  well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  little 
hesitation;  "listen  to  what  I  am  going  to  say,  Sam." 

"Cert'nly,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  "fire  away,  sir." 

"  I  have  felt  from  the  first,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  much  solemnity,  "  that  this  is  not  the  place  to  bring 
a  young  man  to." 

"  Nor  an  old  'un  neither,  sir,"  observed  Mr.  Weller. 

"You're  quite  right,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "but 
old  men  may  come  here,  through  their  own  heedlessness 
and  unsuspicion;  and  young  men  may  be  brought  here 
by  the  selfishness  of  those  they  serve.  It  is  better  for 
those  young  men,  in  every  point  of  view,  that  they 
should  not  remain  here.    Do  you  understand  me,  Sam?" 

"  Vy,  no,  sir,  I  do  not,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  doggedly. 

"Try,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Veil,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam,  after  a  short  pause,  "I 
think  I  see  your  drift;  and  if  I  do  see  your  drift,  it's  my 
'pinion  that  you're  a  comin'  it  a  great  deal  too  strong, 
as  the  mail-coachman  said  to  the  snow-storm,  ven  it 
overtook  him." 

"  I  see  you  comprehend  me,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"Independently  of  my  wish  that  you  should  not  be 
idling  about  a  place  like  this,  for  years  to  come,  I  feel 
that  for  a  debtor  in  the  Fleet  to  be  attended  by  his  man- 


214  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

servant  is  a  monstrous  absurdity.  Sam'^  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick,   for  a  time,  you  must  leave  me." 

^^Oh,  for  a  time,  eh,  sir?"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  rather 
sarcastically. 

Yes,  for  the  time  that  I  remain  here,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. Your  wages  I  shall  continue  to  pay.  Any  one 
of  my  three  friends  will  be  happy  to  take  you,  were  it 
only  out  of  respect  to  me.  And  if  I  ever  do  leave  this 
place,  Sam,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  assumed  cheer- 
fulness; if  I  do,  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  you  shall 
return  to  me  instantly." 

Now  I'll  tell  you  wot  it  is,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  a 
grave  and  solemn  voice,  ''this  here  sort  of  thing  won't 
do  at  all,  so  don't  let's  hear  no  more  about  it." 

''  I  am  serious  and  resolved,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

''You  air,  air  you,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  firmly. 
"  Werry  good,  sir.    Then  so  am  I." 

Thus  speaking,  Mr.  Weller  fixed  his*  hat  on  his  head 
with  great  precision,  and  abruptly  left  the  room. 

"Sam!"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  calling  after  him,  "Safh! 
Here! 

But  the  long  gallery  ceased  to  re-echo  the  sound  of 
footsteps.    Sam  Weller  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XV, 

SHOWING  HOW  MR.  SAMUEL  WELLER  GOT  INTO  DIFFICULTIES. 

In  a  lofty  room,  badly  lighted  and  worse  ventilated, 
situate  in  Portugal  Street,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  there  sit 
nearly  the  whole  year  round,  one,  two,  three,  or  four 
gentlemen  in  wigs,  as  the  case  may  be,  with  little  writ- 
ing desks  before  them,  constructed  after  the  fashion  of 
those  used  by  the  judges  of  the  land,  barring  the  French 
polish.  There  is  a  box  of  barristers  on  the  right  hand; 
there  is  an  inclosure  of  insolvent  debtors  on  their  left; 
and  there  is  an  inclined  plane  of  most  especially  dirty 
faces  in  their  front.  These  gentlemen  are  the  Commis- 
sioners of  the  Insolvent  Court,  and  the  place  in  which 
they  sit  is  the  Insolvent  Court  itself. 

It  is,  and  has  been,  time  out  of  mind,  the  remarkable 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB,  215 


fate  of  this  Court  to  be,  somehow '  or  other,  held  and 
understood  by  the  general  consent  of  all  the  destitute 
shabby-genteel  people  in  London  as  their  comnaon 
resort,  and  place  of  daily  refuge.  It  is  always  full. 
The  steams  of  beer  and  spirits  perpetually  ascend  to  the 
ceiling,  and,  being  condensed  by  the  heat,  roll  down  the 
walls  like  rain;  there  are  more  old  suits  of  clothes  in  it 
at  one  time  than  will  be  offered  for  sale  in  all  Hounds- 
ditch  in  a  twelvemonth;  more  unwashed  skins  and 
grizzly  beards  than  all  the  pumps  and  shaving-shops 
between  Tyburn  and  Whitechapel  could  render  decent, 
between  sunrise  and  sunset. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  any  of  these  people  have 
the  least  shadow  of  business  in,  or  the  remotest  con- 
nexion with,  the  place  they  so  indef atigably  attend.  If 
they  had,  it  would  be  no  matter  of  surprise,  and  the 
singularity  of  the  thing  would  cease  at  once.  Some  of 
them  sleep  during  .the  greater  part  of  the  sitting;  others 
carry  small  portable  dinners  wrapped  in  pocket-handker- 
chiefs or  sticking  out  of  their  worn-out  pockets,  and 
munch  and  listen  with  equal  relish;  but  no  one  among 
them  was  ever  known  to  have  the  slightest  personal 
interest  in  any  case  that  was  ever  brought  forward. 
Whatever  they  do,  there  they  sit  from  the  first  moment  to 
the  last.  When  it  is  heavy  rainy  weather,  they  all  come 
in,  wet  through;  and  at  such  times  the  vapours  of  the 
Court  are  like  those  of  a  fungus-pit. 

A  casual  visitor  might  suppose  this  place  to  be  a  Tem- 
ple dedicated  to  the  Genius  of  Seediness. 

There  is  not  a  messenger  or  process-server  attached  to 
it  who  wears  a  coat  that  was  made  for  him;  not  a  toler- 
ably fresh  or  wholesome-looking  man  in  the  wliole 
establishment,  except  a  little  white-headed,  apple-faced 
tipstaff,  and  even  he,  like  an  ill-conditioned  ciierry  pre- 
served in  brandy,  seems  to  have  artificially  dried  and 
withered  up  into  a  state  of  preservation  to  which  he 
can  lay  no  natural  claim.  The  very  barristers'  wigs  are 
ill-powdered,  -and  their  curls  lack  crispness. 

But  the  attorneys,  who  sit  at  a  large  bare  table  below 
the  Commissioners,  are,  after  all,  tlie  greatest  curiosities. 
The  professional  establishment  of  the  more  opulent  of 
tliese  gentlemen  consists  of  a  blue  bag  and  a  uoy;  gen- 
erally a  youth  of  the  Jewish  persuasion.  They  have  no 
fixed  offices:  their  legal  business  being  transacted  in 


216  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


the  parlours  of  public-houses,  or  the  yards  of  prisons: 
whither  they  repair  in  crowds,  and  canvass  for  cus- 
tomers, after  the  manner  of  omnibus  cads.  They  are 
of  a  greasy  and  mildewed  appearance:  and  if  they  can 
be  said  to  have  any  vices  at  all,  perhaps  drinking  and 
cheating  are  the  most  conspicuous  among  them.  Their 
residences  are  usually  on  the  outskirts  of  "^the  Rules," 
chiefly  lying  within  a  circle  of  one  mile  from  the  obelisk 
in  St*  George's  Fields.  Their  looks  are  not  prepossessing, 
and  their  manners  are  peculiar. 

Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  one  of  this  learned  body,  was  a  flat, 
flabby,  pale  man,  in  a  surtout  which  looked  green  one 
minute,  and  brown  the  next:  with  a  velvet  collar  of  the 
same  cameleon  tints.  His  forehead  was  narrow,  his 
face  wide,  his  head  large,  and  his  nose  all  on  one  side, 
as  if  Nature,  indignant  with  the  propensities  she  observed 
in  him  in  his  birth,  had  given  it  an  angry  tweak  which 
it  had  never  recovered.  Being  short-necked  and  asth- 
matic, however,  he  respired  principally  through  this 
feature;  so,  perhaps,  what  it  wanted  in  ornament  it 
made  up  in  usefulness. 

Vm  sure  to  bring  him  through  it,"  said  Mr.  Pell. 
Are  you,  though  ?"  replied  the  person  to  whom  the 
assurance  was  pledged. 

Certain  sure,"  replied  Pell;  but  if  he'd  gone  to  any 
irregular  practitioner,  mind  you,  I  wouldn't  have  an- 
swered for  the  consequences." 

''Ah!"  said  the  other,  with  open  mouth. 

''  No,  that  I  wouldn't,"  said  Mr.  Pell;  and  he  pursed  up 
his  lips,  frowned,  and  shook  his  head  mysteriously. 

Now  the  place  where  this  discourse  occurred  was  the 
public-house  just  opposite  to  the  Insolvent  Court;  and 
the  person  with  whom  it  was  held  was  no  other  than  the 
elder  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  come  there  to  comfort  and 
console  a  friend  whose  petition  to  be  discharged  under 
the  act  was  to  be  that  day  heard,  and  whose  attorney  he 
was  that  moment  consulting. 

''And  vere  is  George?"  inquired  the  old  gentleman. 

Mr.  Pell  jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of  a  back  par- 
lour: whither  Mr.  Weller  at  once  repairing,  was  imme- 
diately greeted  in  the  warmest  and  most  flattering  man- 
ner by  some  half  dozen  of  his  professional  brethren,  in  - 
token  of  their  gratification  at  his  arrival.  The  insolvent 
gentleman,  who  had  contracted  a  speculative  but  impru- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


217 


dent  passion  for  horsing  long  stages,  which  had  led  to 
his  present  embarrassments,  looked  extremely  well,  and 
was  soothing  the  excitement  of  his  feelings  with  shrimps 
and  porter. 

The  salutation  between  Mr.  Weller  and  his  friends  was 
rtrictly  confined  to  the  freemasonry  of  the  craft;  con- 
sisting of  a  jerking  round  of  the  right  wrist,  and  a  toss- 
ing of  the  little  finger  into  the  air  at  the  same  time. 
We  once  knew  two  famous  coachmen  (they  are  dead 
now,  poor  fellows)  who  were  twins,  and  between  whom 
an  unaffected  and  devoted  attachment  existed.  They 
passed  each  other  on  the  Dover  road  every  day  for 
twenty-four  years,  never  exchanging  any  other  greeting 
than  this;  and  yet,  when  one  died,  the  other  pined  away 
and  soon  afterwards  followed  him! 

Veil,  George,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  taking  off  his 
upper  coat  and  seating  himself  with  his  accustomed 
gravity.    "  How  is  it?   All  right  behind  and  full  inside?" 

All  right,  old  feller,"  replied  the  embarrassed  gen- 
tleman. 

"  Is  the  grey  mare  made  over  to  anybody?"  inquired 
Mr.  Weller,  anxiously. 

George  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

^^Vell,  that's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  Coach 
taken  care  on  also?" 

"  Con-signed  in  a  safe  quarter,"  replied  George,  wring- 
ing the  heads  off  a  half  dozen  shrimps  and  swallowing 
them  without  any  more  ado. 

''Worry  good,  worry  good,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  ''Al- 
vays  see  to  the  drag  ven  you  go  down  hill.  Is  the  vay- 
bill  all  clear  and  straight  for'erd?" 

''The  schedule,  sir,"  said  Pell,  guessing  at  Mr.  Wel- 
ler's  meaning,  "the schedule  is  as  plain  and  satisfactory 
as  pen  and  ink  can  make  it." 

iVIr.  Weller  nodded  in  a  manner  which  bespoke  his  in- 
ward approval  of  these  arrangements;  and  then,  turning 
to  Mr.  Pell,  said,  pointing  to  his  friend  George: 

"  Ven  do  you  take  his  cloths  off?" 

"Why,"  replied  Mr.  Pell,  "  ho  stands  third  on  the  op- 
posed list,  and  I  should  think  it  would  be  his  turn  in 
about  half  an  hour.  I  told  my  clerk  to  come  over  and 
tell  us  when  there  was  a  chance." 

Mr.  Weller  surveyed  the  attorney  fi-om  head  to  foot 
with  great  admiration,  and  said,  emphatically: 


n$  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  And  what'll  you  take,  sir?" 

''Why,  really/'  replied  Mr.  Pell,  you're  very — . 
Upon  my  word  and  honour,  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of — . 
It's  so  very  early  in  the  morning  that,  actually,  I  am  al- 
most— .  Well,  you  may  bring  me  three  penny'orth 
of  rum,  my  dear." 

The  officiating  damsel,  v^ho  had  anticipated  the  order 
before  it  was  given,  set  the  glass  of  spirits  before  Pell 
and  retired. 

Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pell,  looking  round  upon  the 
company,  ''success  to  your  friend!  I  don't  like  to  boast, 
gentlemen;  it's  not  my  way;  but  I  can't  help  saying 
that,  if  your  friend  hadn't  been  fortunate  enough  to  fall 
into  hands  that — but  I  won't  say  what  I  was  going  to 
say.  Gentlemen,  my  service  to  you."  Having  emptied 
the  glass  in  a  twinkling,  Mr.  Pell  smacked  his  lips,  and 
looked  complacently  round  on  the  assembled  coachmen, 
who  evidently  regarded  him  as  a  species  of  divinity. 

Let  me  see,"  said  the  legal  authority;  '"  what  was  I  a 
saying,  gentlemen?" 

"I  think  you  was  remarkin'  as  you  wouldn't  have  no 
objection  to  another  o'  the  same,  sir/'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
with  grave  facetiousness. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Mr.  Pell.  ''Not  bad,  not  bad.  A 
professional  man,  too!  At  this  time  of  the  morning  it 
would  be  rather  too  good  a — .  Well,  I  don't  know,  my 
dear — you  may  do  that  again,  if  you  please.  Hem!" 

This  last  sound  was  a  solemn  and  dignified  cough,  in 
which  Mr.  Pell,  observing  an  indecent  tendency  to  mirth 
in  some  of  his  auditors,  considered  it  due  to  himself  to 
indulge. 

"  The  late  Lord  Chancellor,  gentlemen,  was  very  fond 
of  me,"  said  Mr.  Pell. 

"  And  worry  creditable  in  him,  too,"  interposed  Mr. 
Weller. 

"Hear,  hear,"  assented  Mr.  Pell's  client.  .^'Why 
shouldn't  he  be  ?" 

"Ah — why,  indeed  !"  said  a  very  red-faced  man,  who 
had  said  nothing  yet,  and  who  looked  extremely  un- 
likely to  say  anything  more.    "  Why  shouldn't  he  ?  " 

A  murmur  of  assent  ran  through  the  company. 

•'I  remember,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Peil,  "dining 
with  him  on  one  occasion — there  was  only  us  two,  but 
everything  as  splendid  as  if  twenty  people  had  been  ex- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


21^ 


Kected — the  great  seal  on  a  dumb-waiter  at  his  right 
and,  and  a  man  in  a  bag- wig  and  suit  of  armour  guard- 
ing the  mace  with  a  drawn  sword  and  silk  stockings — 
which  is  perpetually  done,  gentlemen,  night  and  day: 
when  he  said,  '  Pell/  he  said;  '  no  false  delicacy,  Pell. 
You're  a  man  of  talent;  you  can  get  anybody  through 
the  Insolvent  Court,  Pell;  and  your  country  should  be 
proud  of  you.'  Those  were  his  very  words.  ^My  Lord,' 
I  said,  'you  flatter  me.'  ^Pell,'  he  said,  'if  I  do,  I'm 
damned." 

"  Did  he  say  that  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller, 
"  He  did,"  replied  Pell. 

'•Veil  then,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  ''I  say  Parliament 
ought  to  ha'  took  it  up;  and  if  he'd  been  a  poor  man, 
they  tvould  ha'  done  it." 

But,  my  dear  friend,"  argued  Mr.  Pell,  ''  it  was  in 
confidence. " 

"  In  what  ?  "  said  Mr.  Weller. 

''In  confidence." 

"Oh  !  werry  good,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  little 
reflection.  "If  he  damned  his-self  in  confidence,  o' 
course  that  was  another  thing." 

"  Of  course  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Pell.  "  The  distinction's 
obvious,  you  will  perceive." 

"Alters  the  case  entirely,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "Goon, 
sir." 

'*  No;  I  will  not  go  on,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pell,  in  a  low  and 
serious  toae.  "You  have  reminded  me,  sir,  that  this 
con  versation  v/as  private — private  and  confidential,  gen- 
tlemen. Gentlemen,  lama  professional  man.  It  may 
be  that  I  am  a  good  deal  looked  up  to,  in  my  profession 
— h  may  be  that  I  am  not.  Most  people  know.  I  say 
nothing.  Observations  have  already  been  made  in  this 
room,  injurious  to  the  reputation  of  my  noble  friend. 
You  will  excuse  me,  gentlemen;  I  was  imprudent.  I 
feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  mention  tliis  matter  without 
his  concurrence.  Thank  you,  sir;  thank  you."  Thus 
delivering  himself,  Mr.  Pell  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  and,  frowning  grimly  around,  rattled  three 
halfpence  with  terrible  determination. 

Tills  virtuous  resolution  had  scarcely  been  formed, 
when  the  boy  and  tiie  blue  bag,  wlio  were  inseparable 
companions,  rushed  violently  into  the  room,  and  said  (at 
least  the  boy  did;  for  the  blue  bag  took  no  part  in  the 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


announcement)  that  the  case  was  coming  on  directly. 
The  intelligence  was  no  sooner  received  than  the  whole 
party  hurried  across  the  street,  and  began  to  fight  their 
way  into  Court — a  preparatory  ceremony,  which  has 
been  calculated  to  occupy,  in  ordinary  cases,  from 
twenty-five  minutes  to  thirty. 

Mr.  Weller,  being  stout,  cast  himself  at  once  into  the 
crowd,  with  the  desperate  hope  of  ultimately  turning  up 
in  some  place  which  would  suit  him.  His  success  was 
not  quite  equal  to  his  expectations;  for  having  neglected 
to  take  his  hat  off,  it  was  knocked  over  his  eyes  by  some 
unseen  person,  upon  whose  toes  he  had  alighted  with 
considerable  force.  Apparently  this  individual  regretted 
his  impetuosity  immediately  afterwards;  for,  uttering 
an  indistinct  exclamation  of  surprise,  he  dragged  the 
old  man  out  into  the  hall,  and,  after  a  violent  struggle, 
released  his  head  and  face. 

''Samivel,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  was  thus 
enabled  to  behold  his  rescuer. 

Sam  nodded. 

"  You're  a  dutiful  and  affectionate  little  boy,  you  are, 
ain't  you  ?"  said  Mr.  Weller,  ''to  come  abonnetin'  your 
father  in  his  old  age  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  who  you  wos  ?"  responded  the 
son.  "  Do  you  s'pose  I  wos  to  tell  you  by  the  weight  o' 
your  foot  ?  *' 

''Veil,  that's  worry  true,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
mollified  at  once;  "but  what  are  you  a  doin' on  here? 
Your  gov'nor  can't  do  no  good  here,  Sammy.  They 
won't  pass  that  werdick;  they  won't  pass  it,  Sammy." 
And  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  with  legal  solemnity. 

"  Wot  a  perwerse  old  file  it  is!"  exclaimed  Sam,  "al- 
vays  a  goin'  on  about  werdicks  and  alleybis,  and  that. 
Who  said  anything  about  the  werdick?" 

Mr.  Weller  made  no  reply,  but  once  more  shook  his 
head  most  learnedly. 

"Leave  off  rattlin'  that  'ere  nob  o  yourn,  if  you  don't 
want  it  to  come  off  the  springs  altogether,"  said  Sam, 
impatiently,  "and  behave  reasonable.  I  vent  all  the 
vay  dovv^n  to  the  Markis  o'  Granby,  arter  you,  last 
night." 

"Did  you  see  the  Marchioness  o'  Granby,  Sammy?" 
inquired  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  sigh. 
"Yes,  I  did,"  replied  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


How  wos  the  dear  creetur  a  lookin'?" 

Weny  queer/'  said  Sam.  I  think  she's  a  injurin' 
herself  gradivally  vith  too  much  o'  that  'ere  pine-apple 
rum,  and  other  strong  medicines  o'  the  same  natur." 

''You  don't  mean  that,  Sammy?"  said  the  senior, 
earnestly. 

''I  do,  indeed/'  replied  the  junior.  Mr.  Weller  seized 
his  son's  hand,  clasped  it,  and  let  it  fall.  There  was  an 
expression  on  his  countenance  in  doing  so — not  of  dis- 
may or  ax-)prehension,  but  partaking  more  of  the  sweet 
and  gentle  character  of  hope.  A  gleam  of  resignation, 
and  even  of  cheerfulness,  passed  over  his  face  too,  as  he 
slowly  said,  ''I  ain't  quite  certain,  Sammy;  I  wouldn't 
like  to  say  I  wos  altogether  positive,  in  case  of  any  sub- 
sekent  disappintment,  but  I  rayther  think,  my  boy — I 
rather  think — that  the  shepherd's  got  the  liver  com- 
plaint!" 

"  Does  he  look  bad?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  He's  uncommon  pale/'  replied  his  father,  '"cept  about 
the  nose,  which  is  'redder  than  ever.  His  appetite  is 
vv^erry  so-so,  but  he  imbibes  wonderful." 

Some  thoughts  of  the  rum  appeared  to  obtrude  them- 
selves on  Mr.  AVeller's  mind,  as  he  said  this;  for  he 
looked  gloomy  and  thoughtful;  but  he  Yerj  shortly  re- 
covered, as  was  testified  by  a  perfect  alphabet  of  winks, 
in  which  he  was  only  wont  to  indulge  when  particularly 
pleased. 

''Veil,  now,"  said  Sam,  "about  my  affair.  Just  open 
tliem  ears  o'  yourn,  and  don't  say  nothin'  till  I've  done." 
With  this  brief  preface  Sam  related,  as  succinctly  as  he 
could,  the  last  memorable  conversation  he  had  had  with 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Stop  there  by  himself,  poor  creetur!"  exclaimed  the 
elder  Mr.  Weller,  "  withput  nobody  to  take  liis  part!  It 
can't  be  done,  Samivel,  it  can't  be  done." 

"C  course  it  can't/' asserted  Sam;  "I  know'd  that 
afore  I  came." 

''Wy,  they'll  eat  him  up  alive,  Sammy/'  exclaimed  Mr. 
Weller. 

Sam  nodded  his  concurrence  in  the  opinion. 

"  He  goes  in  rayther  raw,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
metaphorically,  "and  he'll  come  out  done  so  ex-ceedin' 
brown  that  his  most  formiliar  friends  won't  know  him. 
Roast  pigeon's  nothin' to  it.  Sammy." 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Again  Sam  Weller  nodded. 

It  oughtn't  to  be,  Samivel/'  said  Mr.  Weller,  gravely. 
"It  mustn't  be,"  said  Sam. 
''Cert'nly  not,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

''Veil,  now,"  said  Sam,  ''you've  been  a  prophecyin' 
away,  worry  fine,  like  a  red-faced  Nixon,  as  the  sixpenny 
books  give  picters  on." 

"  Who  wos  he,  Sammy?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Never  mind  who  he  wos,"  retorted  Sam^  he  warn't  a 
coachman;  that's  enough  for  you." 

"I  know'd  a  ostler  o'  that  name,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
musing. 

"  It  warn't  him,"  said  Sam.  "  This  here  gen'l'm'n  was 
a  prophet. 

"Wot's  a  prophet?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  looking 
sternly  on  his  son. 

"  Wy,  a  man  as  tells  what's  a  goin'  to  happen,"  replied 
Sam. 

"  I  wish  I'd  know'd  him,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 
"  P'rap's  he  might  ha'  throw'd  a  small  light  on  that  'ere 
liver  complaint  as  we  wos  a  speakin'  on,  just  now. 
Hows'ever,  if  he's  dead,  and  ain't  left  the  bisness  to  no- 
body, there's  an  end  on  it.  Go  on,  Sammy,"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  with  a  sigh. 

"Well,"  said  Sam,  " you've  been  a  prophecyin' avay, 
about  wot'll  happen  to  the  gov'nor  if  he's  left  alone. 
Don't  you  see  any  vay  o'  takin'  care  on  him?" 

"  No,  I  don't,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  reflect- 
ive visage. 

"No  vay  at  all?"  inquired  Sam. 

"No  vay,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "unless" — and  a  gleam 
of  intelligence  lighted  up  his  countenance  as  he  sunk 
his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  applied  his  mouth  to  the  ear 
of  his  offspring — "  unless  it  is  getting  him  out  in  a  turn- 
up bedstead,  unbeknown  to  the  turnkeys,  or  dressin'  him 
up  like  a  old  'ooman  vith  a  green  wail." 

Sam  Weller  received  both  of  these  suggestions  with 
unexpected  contempt,  and  again  propounded  his  ques- 
tion. 

"No,"  said  the  old  gentleman;  "if  he  von't  let  you 
stop  there,  I  see  no  vay  at  all.  It's  no  thoroughfare, 
Sammy — no  thoroughfare." 

"Well,  then.  Til  tell  you  wot  it  is,"  said  Sam,  "I'll 
trouble  you  for  the  loan  of  five-and-tventy  pound," 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  233 

Wot  good'ull  that  do?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 
Never  mind,"  replied  Sam.  ''P'raps  you  may  ask 
for  it,  five  minits  artervards;  p'raps  I  may  say  I  von't 
pay,  and  cut  up  rough.  You  von't  think  o'  arrestin' 
your  own  son  for  the  money,  and  sendin'  him  off  to  the 
t'leet,  will  you,  you  unnat'ral  wagabone?" 

At  this  reply  of  Sam's,  the  father  and  son  exchanged 
a  complete  code  of  telegraphic  nods  and  gestures,  after 
which  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  sat  himself  down  on  a  stone 
step,  and  laughed  till  he  was  purple. 

"  Wot  a  old  image  it  is!  "  exclaimed  Sam,  indignant  at 
this  loss  of  time.  ''What  are  you  a  settin'  down  there 
for,  con-wertin'  your  face  into  a  street-door  knocker, 
wen  there's  so  much  to  be  done.  "  Were's  the 
money?" 

"  In  the  boot,  Sammy,  in  the  boot,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
composing  his  features.    "Hold  my  hat,  Sammy." 

Having  divested  himself  of  this  incumbrance,  Mr. 
Weller  gave  his  body  a  sudden  wrench  to  one  side,  and, 
by  a  dexterous  twist,  contrived  to  get  his  right  hand  into 
a  most  capacious  pocket,  from  whence,  after  a  good  deal 
of  panting  and  exertion,  he  extracted  a  pocket-book  of 
the  large  octavo  size,  fastened  by  a  huge  leathern  strap. 
From  this  ledger  he  drew  forth  a  couple  of  whip-lashes, 
three  or  four  buckles,  a  little  sample-bag  of  corn,  and 
finally  a  small  roll  of  very  dirty  bank-notes;  from  which 
he  selected  the  required  amount,  which  he  handed  over 
to  Sam. 

''And  now,  Sammy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  when 
the  whip-lashes,  and  the  buckles,  and  the  sample,  had 
been  all  put  back,  and  the  book  once  more  deposited  at 
the  bottom  of  the  same  pocket.  *vNow,  Sammy,  I 
Icnow  a  gen'l'm'n  here  as'U  do  the  rest  of  the  bisness 
for  us,  in  no  time — a  limb  o'  the  lav/,  Sammy,  as  has  got 
])rains  like  the  frogs,  dispersed  all  over  his  body,  and 
leachin'  to  the  werry  tips  of  his  fingers;  a  friend  of  the 
Lord  Chancellorship's,  Sammy,  who'd  only  have  to  tell 
him  what  he  wanted,  and  he'd  lock  you  up  for  life,  if 
that  wos  all." 

"  I  say,"  said  Sam,  "  none  o'  that." 

"  None  o'  wot?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Wy,  none  o'  them  unconstitootional  ways  o'  doing 
it,"  retorted  Sam.  "The  have-his-carcase,  next  to  the 
perpetual  motion,  is  vuu  of  the  blessedest  things  as  wos 


224  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ever  made.  I've  read  that  'ere  in  the  newspapers,  werry 
of  en." 

''Well,  wot's  that  got  to  do  vith  it?"  inquired  Mr. 
Weller. 

"  Just  this  here,"  said  Sam,  "  that  FU  patronize  thein- 
wention,  and  go  in  that  vay.  No  visperin's  to  the 
Chancellorship — I  don't  like  the  notion.  It  mayn't  be 
altogether  safe,  vith  reference  to  the  gettin'  out 
again." 

Deferring  to  his  son's  feelings  upon  this  point,  Mr. 
Weller  at  once  sought  the  erudite  Solomon  Pell,  and  ac- 
quainted him  with  his  desire  to  issue  a  writ,  instantly, 
for  the  sum  of  twenty-five  pounds,  and  costs  of  process: 
to  be  executed  without  delay  upon  the  body  of  one 
Samuel  Weller;  the  charges  thereby  incurred  to  be 
paid  in  advance  to  Solomon  Pell. 

The  attorney  was  in  high  glee;  for  the  embarrassed 
coach-horser  was  ordered  to  be  discharged  forthwith. 
He  highly  approved  of  Sam's  attachment  to  his  master; 
declared  that  it  strongly  reminded  him  of  his  own  feel- 
ings of  devotion  to  his  friend,  the  Chancellor;  and  at 
once  led  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  down  to  the  Temple,  to 
swear  the  affidavit  of  debt:  which  the  boy,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  the  blue  bag,  had  drawn  up  on  the  spot. 

Meanwhile  Sam,  having  been  formally  introdaced  to 
the  whitewashed  gentleman  and  his  friends,  as  the  off- 
spring of  Mr.  Weller,  of  the  Belle  Savage,  was  treated 
with  marked  distinction,  and  invited  to  regale  himself 
with  them  in  honour  of  the  occasion — an  invitation 
which  he  was  by  no  means  backward  in  accepting. 

The  mirth  of  gentlemen  of  this  class  is  of  a  grave  and 
quiet  character,  usually;  but  the  present  instance  was 
one  of  peculiar  festivity,  and  they  relaxed  in  propor- 
tion. After  some  rather  tumultuous  toasting  of  the 
Chief  Commissioner  and  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  who  had  that 
day  displayed  suchtranscendant  abilities,  a  mottle-faced 
gentleman  in  a  blue  shawl  proposed  that  somebody 
should  sing  a  song.  The  obvious  suggestion  was  that 
the  mottle-faced  gentleman,  being  anxious  for  a  song, 
should  sing  it  himself;  but  this  the  mottle-faced  gentle- 
man sturdily,  and  somewhat  offensively,  declined  to  do: 
upon  which,  as  is  not  unusual  in  such  cases,  a  rather 
angry  colloquy  ensued. 

''Gentlemen,"  said  the  coach-horser,  ''rather  than 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


225 


disturb  the  harmony  of  this  delightful  occasion,  perhaps 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller  will  oblige  the  company." 

Raly,  gentlemen,"  said  Sam,  "  I'm  not  worry  much* 
in  the  habit  o'  singin'  without  the  instrument;  but  any- 
thin'  for  a  quiet  life,  as  the  man  said  wen  he  took  the 
sitivation  at  the  lighthouse." 

With  this  prelude,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  burst  at  once 
into  the  following  wild  and  beautiful  legend,  which, 
under  the  impression  that  it  is  not  generally  known,  wo 
take  the  liberty  of  quoting.  We  would  beg  to  call  par- 
ticular attention  to  the  monosyllable  at  the  end  of  the 
second  and  fourth  lines,  which  not  only  enables  the 
singer  to  take  breath  at  those  points,  but  greatly  assists 
the  metre: 

EOMANCE. 


Bold  Turpin  vnnce,  on  Honnslow  Heath, 

His  bold  mare  Bess  bestrode — er  ; 

Ven  there  he  see'd  the  Bishop's  coach 

A-coming  alongf  the  road — er. 

So  he  gallops  close  to  the  'orse's  legs, 

And  claps  his  head  vithin; 

And  the  Bishop  says,  '*Sure  as  eggs  is  eggs, 

This  here's  the  bold  Turpin  !" 

CHOKUS. 

And  the  Bishop  says,  **  Sure  as  eggs  is  eggs, 
This  here's  the  bold  Turpin  !" 

n. 

Says  Turpin,  "You  shall  eat  your  words. 
With  a  sarce  of  leaden  bul — let  ;" 
So  he  puts  a  pistol  to  his  mouth, 
And  he  tires  it  down  his  gul— let. 
The  coachman,  he  not  likin'  the  job, 
#  Set  off  at  a  full  gal— lop. 

But  Dick  put  a  couple  of  balls  in  his  nob, 
And  perwailed  on  him  to  stop. 

caoRVSisarc'tstically). 
But  Dick  put  a  couple  of  balls  in  his  nob. 
And  perwailed  on  him  to  stop. 

''I  maintain  that  that 'ere  song's  personal  to  the 
cloth,"  said  the  mottled-faced  gentleman,  interrupting 
it  at  this  point.     I  demand  the  name  o'  that  coachman." 

Nobody  know'd,"  replied  Sam.  He  hadn't  got  his 
card  in  his  pocket." 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

'^I  object  to  the  introduction  o'  politics,"  said  the 
mottled-faced  gentleman.  ' '  I  submit  that,  in  the  present 
company,  that  'ere  song's  political;  and,  wot's  much  the 
same,  that  it  ain't  true.  I  say  that  the  coachman  did 
not  run  away;  but  that  he  died  g:ame — game  as  pheas- 
ants; and*I  won't  hear  nothin'  said  to  the  contrairey." 

As  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  spoke  with  great 
energy  and  determination:  and  as  the  opinions  of  the 
com.pany  seemed  divided  on  the  subject:  it  threatened 
to  give  rise  to  fresh  altercation,  when  Mr.  Weller  and 
Mr.  Pell  opportunely  arrived. 

''  All  right,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

''The  officer  wiirbe  here  at  four  o'clock,"  said  Mr. 
Pell.  "  I  suppose  you  won't  run  away  meanwhile— eh  ? 
Ha!  ha!" 

"  P'raps  my  cruel  pa'ull  relent  afore  then,"  replied 
Sam,  with  a  broad  grin. 
"  Not  I,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 
"  Do,"  said  Sam. 

"  Not  on  no  account,"  replied  the  inexorable  creditor. 

"I'll  give  bills  for  the  amount,  at  sixpence  a  month," 
said  Sam. 

"  I  won't  take  'em,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha!  very  good,  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Solomon 
Pell,  who  was  making  out  his  little  bill  of  costs;  "a  very 
amusing  incident  indeed  !  Benjamin,  copy  that,"  and 
Mr.  Pell  smiled  again,  as  he  called  Mr.  Weller's  atten- 
tion to  the  amount. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  the  professional  gen- 
tleman, taking  up  another  of  the  greasy  notes  as  Mr. 
Weller  took  it  from  the  pocket-book.  "  Three  ten  and 
one  ten  is  five.  Much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Weller.  Your 
son  is  a  most  deserving  young  man,  very  much  ^ 
indeed,  sir.  It's  a  very  pleasant  trait  in  the  young  man's 
character — very  much  so,"  added  Mr.  Pell,  smiling 
smoothly  round,  as  he  buttoned  up  the  money. 

"Wot  a  game  it  is  !"  said  the  elder  Mr.  V7eller,  with 
a  chuckle.    "A  reg'lar  prodigy  son  !" 

"Prodigal — prodigal  son,  sir,"  suggested  Mr.  Pell, 
mildly. 

"Never  mind,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  dignity.  "I 
know  wot's  o'clock,  sir.    Wen  I  don't,  I'll  ask  you,  sir." 

By  the  time  the  officer  arrived,  Sam  had  made  himself 
BO  extremely  popular  that  the  congregated  gentlemen 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


227 


determined  to  see  him  to  prison  in  a  body.  So  off  they 
set ;  the  plaintiff  and  defendant  walking  arm-in-arm ; 
the  officer  in  front,  and  eight  stout  coachmen  bringing 
up  the  rear.  At  Serjeant's  Inn  Coffee-house  the  whole 
party  halted  to  refresh  ;  and,  the  legal  arrangements 
being  completed,  the  procession  moved  on  again. 

Some  little  commotion  was  occasioned  in  Fleet  Street, 
by  the  pleasantry  of  the  eight  gentlemen  in  the  flank, 
who  persevered  in  walking  four  abreast ;  it  was  also 
found  necessary  to  leave  the  mottle-faced  gentleman 
behind,  to  fight  a  ticket-porter,  it  being  arranged  that 
his  friends  should  call  for  him  as  they  came  -back. 
Nothing  but  these  little  incidents  occurred  on  the  way. 
When  they  reached  the  gate  of  the  Fleet,  the  cavalcade, 
taking  the  time  from  the  plaintiff,  gave  three  tremen- 
dous cheers  for  the  defendant;  and,  after  shaking  hands 
all  round,  left  him. 

Sam,  having  been  formally  delivered  into  the  warden's 
custody,  to  the  intense  astonishment  of  Roker,  and  to 
the  evident  emotion  of  even  the  phlegmatic  Neddy, 
passed  at  once  into  the  prison,  walked  straight  to  his 
master's  room,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
Come  in,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  appeared,  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  smiled. 

''Ah,  Sam,  my  good  lad,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  evi- 
dently delighted  to  see  his  humble  friend  again;  "  I  had 
no  intention  of  hurting  your  feelings  yesterday,  my 
faithful  fellow,  by  what  I  said.  Put  down  your  hat, 
Sam,  and  let  me  explain  my  meaning,  a  little  more  at 
length." 

Won't  presently  do,  sir  ?"  inquired  Sam. 
Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  but  why  not  now?" 
Yd  rayther  not  now,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam. 
Why  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'''Cause — "  said  Sam,  hesitating. 

"Because  of  what  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  alarmed 
at  his  followers  manner.    "  Speak  out,  Sam." 

/'Cause,"  rejoined  Sam,  '"cause  I've  got  a  little  bis- 
ness  as  I  want  to  do." 

"What  business?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  surprised 
at  Sam's  confused  manner. 

"Nothin'  partickler,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"Oh,  if  it's  nothing  particular,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  smile,  "you  can  speak  with  me  first." 


228  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"I  think  I'd  better  see  arter  it  at  once,  sir,"  said  Sam, 
still  hesitating. 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  amazed,  but  said  nothing. 

^'  The  fact  is — "  said  Sam,  stopping  short. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.      Speak  out,  Sam." 
Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  Sam,  with  a  desperate  effort, 
'^p'raps  rd  better  see  arter  my  bed  afore  I  do  any  thin' 
else." 

"Your  bedr^  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

Yes,  my  bed,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  Pm  a  pris'ner.  I 
was  arrested,  this  here  worry  arternoon,  for  debt." 

''You  arrested  for  debt!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
sinking  into  a  chair. 

''Yes,  for  debt,  sir,"  replied  Sam;  "and  the  man  as 
put  me  in'uU  never  let  me  out,  till  you  go  yourself." 

"  Bless  my  heart  and  soul ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Wot  I  say,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam  ;  "if  it's  forty  year  to 
come,  I  shall  be  a  pris'ner,  and  I'm  worry  glad  on  it  ; 
and  if  it  had  been  Newgate,  it  would  ha'  been  just  the 
same.  Now  the  murder's  out,  and,  damme,  there's  an 
end  on  it." 

With  these  words,  which  he  repeated  with  great  em- 
phasis and  violence,  Sam  Weller  dashed  his  hat  upon 
the  ground,  in  a  most  unusual  state  of  excitement  ;  and 
then,  folding  his  arms,  looked  firmly  and  fixedly  in  his 
master's  face. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


239 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TREATS  OF  DIVERS  LITTLE  MATTERS  WHICH  OCCURRED 
IN  THE  FLEET,  AND  OF  MR.  WINKLE'S  MYSTERIOUS 
BEHAVIOUR  ;  AND  SHOWS  HOW  THE  POOR  CHANCERY 
PRISONER  OBTAINED  HIS  RELEASE  AT  LAST. 

Mr.  Pickwick  felt  a  great  deal  too  much  touched  by 
the  warmth  of  Sam's  attachment  to  be  able  to  exhibit 
any  manifestation  of  anger  or  displeasure  at  the  pre- 
cipitate course  he  had  adopted  in  voluntarily  consign- 
ing himself  to  a  debtors  prison  for  an  indefinite  period. 
The  only  point  on  which  he  persevered  in  demanding 
any  explanation  was  the  name  of  Sam's  detaining 
creditor,  but  this  Mr.  Weller  perseveringly  withheld. 

"  It  ain't  no  use,  sir,"  said  Sam,  again  and  again. 
"  He's  a  ma-licious,  bad-disposed,  vorldly -minded,  spite- 
ful, windictive  creetur,  with  a  hard  heart  as  there  ain't 
no  soft'nin':  as  the  wirtuous  clergyman  remarked  of 
the  old  genTm'n  with  the  dropsy,  ven  he  said  that 
upon  the  whole  he  thought  he'd  rayther  leave  his  prop- 
erty to  his  vife  than  build  a  chapel  vith  it." 

"  But  consider,  Sam,"  Mr.  Pickwick  remonstrated, 
^'the  sum  is  so  small  that  it  can  very  easily  be  paid; 
and  having  made  up  my  mind  that  you  shall  stop  with 
me,  you  should  recollect  how  much  more  useful  you 
would  be  if  you  could  go  outside  the  walls." 

"  Werry  much  obliged  to  you,  sir/'  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
gravely;  ''but  I'd  rayther  not." 

"  Rather  not  do  what,  Sam  ?  " 

''Why,  sir,  I'd  rayther  not  let  myself  down  to  ask  a 
favour  o'  this  here  unremorseful  enemy." 

"But  it  is  no  favour  asking  him  to  take  his  money, 
Sam,"  reasoned  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam;  "  but  it  'ud  be 
a  werrj''  great  favour  to  pay  it,  and  he  don't  deserve 
none;  that's  were  it  is,  sir." 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick  rubbing  his  nose,  with  an  air  of 
some  vexation,  Mr.  Weller  thought  it  prudent  to 
change  the  theme  of  the  discourse. 

I  takes  my  determination  on  principle,  sir,"  re- 


230  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


marked  Sam,  ^^and  you  takes  yours  on  the  same 
ground;  which  puts  me  in  mind  o'  the  man  as  killed 
his-self  on  principle;  which  o'  course  you've  heerd  on, 
sir."  Mr.  Weller  paused  when  he  arrived  at  this  point, 
and  cast  a  comical  look  at  his  master  out  of  uhe  corners 
of  his  eyes. 

There  is  no  ^of  course'  in  the  case,  Sam,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  gradually  breaking  into  a  smile  in  spite  of 
the  uneasiness  which  Sam's  obstinacy  had  given  him. 

The  fame  of  the  gentleman  in  question  never  reached 
my  ears." 

''No,  sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller.    ''You  astonish 
me,  sir;  he  wos  a  clerk  in  a  gov'ment  office,  sir." 
Was  he  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes,  he  wos,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller;  and  a  werry 
pleasant  gen'l'm'n,  too — one  o'  the  percise  and  tidy  sort, 
as  puts  their  feet  in  little  India-rubber  fire-buckets  wen 
its  wet  weather,  and  never  has  no  other  bosom  friends 
but  hare-skins;  he  saved  up  his  monej^  on  principle, 
wore  a  clean  shirt  ev'ry  day  on  principle;  never  spoke 
to  none  of  his  relations  on  principle,  'fear  they  shou'd 
want  to  borrow  money  of  him,  and  was  altogether,  in 
fact,  an  uncommon  agreeable  character.  He  had  his 
hair  cut  on  principle  vunce  a  fortnight,  and  contracted 
for  his  clothes  on  the  economic  principle — three  suits  a 
year,  and  send  back  the  old  uns.  Being  a  werry  reg'lar 
gen'l'm'n  he  din'd  ev'ry  day  at  the  same  place,  where  it 
was  one  and  nine  to  cut  off  the  joint;  and  a  werry  good 
one  and  nine's  worth  he  used  to  cut,  as  the  landlord 
often  said,  with  the  tears  a  tricklin'  down  his  face:  let 
alone  the  way  he  used  to  poke  the  fire  in  thevinter  time, 
which  was  a  dead  loss  of  four-pence  ha'penny  a  day:  to 
say-nothin'  at  all  o'  the  aggrawation  o'  seein'  him  do  it. 
So  uncommon  grand  with  it  too  !  '  Post  arter  the  next 
gen'l'm'n,'  he  sings  out  ev'ry  day  ven  he  comes  in. 
'  See  arter  the  Times,  Thomas;  let  me  look  at  the  Mornin' 
Herald,  wen  it's  out  o'  hand;  don't  forget  to  bespeak 
the  Chronicle;  and  just  bring  the  'Tizer,  vill  you;' 
and  then  he'd  set  vith  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  clock, 
and  rush  out  just  a  quarter  of  a  minit  afore  the 
time  to  waylay  the  boy  as  wos  a  comin'  in  with 
the  evenin'  paper,  which  he'd  read  with  sich  intense 
interest  and  perse werance  as  v/orked  the  other  cus- 
tomers up  to  the  werry  confines  o'  desperation  and  in- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


231 


sanity,  'specially  one  i-rascible  old  genl'm'n,  as  the 
vaiter  wos  always  obliged  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on,  at 
such  times,  fear  he  should  be  tempted  to  commit  some 
rash  act  with  the  carving-knife.  Veil,  sir,  here  he'd 
stop,  occupyin'  the  best  place  for  three  hours,  and  never 
takin'  nothin'  arter  his  dinner,  but  sleep,  and  then  he'd 
go  away  to  a  coffee-house  a  few  streets  off,  and  have  a 
small  pot  o'  coffee  and  four  crumpets,  arter  wich  he'd 
walk  home  to  Kensington  and  go  to  bed.  One  night  he 
was  took  werry  ill;  sends  for  the  doctor;  doctor  comes 
in  a  green  fly,  with  a  kind  o'  Robinson  Crusoe  set  o' 
steps,  as  he  could  let  down  wen  he  got  out,  and  pull  up 
arter  him  wen  he  got  in,  to  perwent  the  necessity  o'  the 
coachman's  gettin'  down,  and  thereby  undeceivin'  the 
public  by  letting  'em  see  that  it  wos  only  a  livery  coat 
he'd  got  on,  and  not  the  trousers  to  match.  '  Wot's  the 
matter?'  says  the  doctor.  '  Werry  ill,'  says  the  patient. 
'Wot  have  you  been  a  eatin'  on?'  says  the  doctor. 
'  Roast  weal,' says  the  patient.  'Wot's  the  last  thing 
you  dewoured?'  says  the  doctor.  'Crumpets,'  says  the 
patient.  '  That's  it,' says  the  doctor.  'Ill  send  you  a 
box  of  pills  directly,  and  don't  you  never  take  no  more 
of  'em,'  he  says.  '  No  more  o'  wot?'  says  the  patient — 
'pills?'  'No;  crumpets,' says  the  doctor.  'Wy?'says 
the  patient,  starting  up  in  bed;  '  I've  eat  four  crumpets 
ev'ry  night  for  fifteen  year,  on  principle."  "  Well,  then, 
you'd  better  leave  'em  off,  on  principle,'  says  the  doctor. 
'  Crumpets  is  wholesome,  sir,'  says  the  patient.  '  Crum- 
pets is  not  wholesome,  sir,'  says  the  doctor,*  werry 
fierce.  "  But  they're  so  cheap,'  says  the  patient,  comin' 
down  a  little,  '  and  so  werry  fillin'  at  the  price.'  '  They'd 
be  dear  to  you  at  any  price;  dear  if  you  wos  paid  to  eat 
'em,'  says  the  doctor.  '  Four  crumpets  a  night,'  he  says, 
'  vill  do  your  business  in  six  months! '  Tlu^  patient  looks 
him  full  in  the  face,  and  turns  it  over  in  his  mind  for  a 
long  time,  and  at  last  he  says,  '  Are  you  sure  o' that  'ere, 
sir?'  '  I'll  stake  my  professional  reputation  on  it,'  says 
the  doctor.  '  How  many  crumpets  at  a  sittin'  do  you 
think  'ud  kill  me  off  at  once? '  says  the  patient.  '  I  don't 
know,"  says  the  doctor.  'Do  you  think  half  a  crown's 
worth 'ud  do  it?' says  the  patient.  'I  think  it  might,' 
says  the  doctor.  '  Thi-oe  shillings'  wurth  'ud  be  sure  to 
doit,  I  s'pose,' says  the  patient.  'Certainly,'  says  the 
doctor.    '  Worry  good,' says  the  patient;  'good  niglit.' 


232 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Next  mornin'  he  gets  up,  has  a  fire  lit,  orders  in  three 
shillins'  wurth  o'  crumpets,  toasts  'em  all,  eats  'em  all, 
and  blows  his  brains  out." 

''What  did  he  do  that  for?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
abruptly;  for  he  was  considerably  startled  by  this 
tragical  termination  of  the  narrative. 

"  Wot  did  he  do  it  for,  sir,"  reiterated  Sam.  Wy,  in 
support  of  his  great  principle  that  crumpets  was  whole- 
some, and  to  show  that  he  wouldn't  be  put  out  of  "his 
way  for  nobody!" 

With  such  like  shiftings  and  changings  of  the  dis- 
course did  Mr.  Weller  meet  his  master's  questioning  on 
the  night  of  his  taking  up  his  residence  in  the  Fleet]. 
Finding  all  gentle  remonstrance  useless,  Mr.  Pickwick 
at  length  yielded  a  reluctant  consent  to  his  taking 
lodgings  by  the  week  of  a  bald-headed  cobbler,  who 
rented  a  small  slip-room  in  one  of  the  upper  galleries. 
To  this  humble  apartment  Mr.  Weller  moved  a  mattress 
and  bedding,  which  he  hired  of  Mr.  Roker;  and,  by  the 
time  he  lay  down  upon  it  at  night,  was  as  much  at  home 
as  if  he  had  been  bred  in  the  prison,  and  his  whole 
family  had  vegetated  therein  for  three  generations. 

''Do  you  alvays  smoke  arter  you  goes  to  bed,  old 
cock?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller  of  his  landlord,  when  they 
had  both  retired  for  the  night. 

"Yes,  I  does,  young  ba-ntam,"  replied  the  cobbler. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  in-quire  wy  you  make  up  your 
bed  under  that  'ere  deal  table?"  said  Sam. 

"'Cafuselwas  always  used  to  a  four-poster  afore  I 
came  here,  and  I  find  the  legs  of  the  table  answer  just 
as  well,"  replied  the  cobbler. 

"You're  a  character,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"  I  haven't  got  anything  of  the  kind  belonging  to  me," 
replied  the  cobbler,  shaking  his  head;  "  and  if  you  want 
to  meet  with  a  good  one,  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  some 
difficulty  in  suiting  yourself  at  this  register  office." 

The  above  short  dialogue  took  place  as  Mr.  Weller  lay 
extended  on  his  mattress  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and 
the  cobbler  on  his,  at  the  other;  the  apartment  being/ 
illuminated  by  the  light  of  a  rush  candle,  and  the  cob- 
bler's pipe:  which  was  glowing,  below  the  table,  like  a 
red-hot  coal.  The  conversation,  brief  as  it  was,  predis- 
posed Mr.  Weller  strongly  in  his  landlord's  favour;  and, 
raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  he  took  a  more  lengthened 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  283 

survey  of  his  appearance  than  he  had  yet  ^  had  either 
time  or  inclination  to  make. 

He  was  a  sallow  man — all  cobblers  are;  and  had  a 
strong  bristly  beard — all  cobblers  have;  his  face  was  a 
queer,  good-tempered,  crooked-featured  piece  of  work- 
manship, ornamented  with  a  couple  of  eyes  that  must 
have  worn  a  very  joyous  expression  at  one  time,  for 
they  sparkled  yet.  The  man  was  sixty,  by  years,  and 
Heaven  knows  how  old  by  imprisonment,  so  that  his 
having  any  look  approaching  to  mirth  or  contentment 
was  singular  enough.  He  was  a  little  man,  and  being 
half  doubled  up  as  he  lay  in  bed,  looked  about  as  long 
as  he  ought  to  have  been  without  his  legs.  He  had  a  great 
red  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  was  smoking,  and  staring  at 
the  rush-light,  in  a  state  of  enviable  placidity. 

"  Have  you  been  here  long?"  inquired  Sam,  breaking 
the  silence  which  had  lasted  for  some  time. 

"  Twelve  year,"  replied  the  cobbler,  biting  the  end  of 
his  pipe  as  he  spoke. 

"  Contempt?"  inquired  Sam. 

The  cobbler  nodded. 

''Well,  then,"  said  Sam,  with  some  sternness,  "wot 
do  you  persevere  in  bein'  obstinit  for:  vastin'  your 
precious  life  away  in  this  here  magnified  pound?  Wy 
don't  you  give  in,  and  tell  the  Chancellorship  that  you're 
werry  sorry  for  makin'  his  court  contemptible,  and  you 
won't  do  so  no  more?" 

The  cobbler  put  his  pipe  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth, 
while  he  smiled,  and  then  brought  it  back  to  its  old  place 
again,  but  said  nothing.* 

''Wy  don't  you?"  said  Sam,  urging  his  question 
strenuously. 

"Ah,"  said  the  cobbler,  "you  don't  quite  understand 
these  matters.    What  do  you  suppose  ruined  me,  now?" 

Wy,"  said  Sam,  trimming  the  rushlight,  "  I  'spose 
the  beginnin'  wos,  that  you  got  into  debt,  eh?" 

"  Never  owed  a  farden,"  said  the  cobbler;  "  try  again." 

"  Well,  perhaps,"  said  Sam,  "  you  bought  houses,  wich 
is  delicate  English  for  goin'  mad;  or  took  to  buildin', 
wich  is  a  medical  term  for  bein'  incurable." 

The  cobbler  shook  his  head  and  said,  "  Try  again." 
.  "You  didn't  go  to  law,  I  hope?"  said  Sam,  suspiciously. 

"  Never  in  my  life,"  replied  the  cobbler.  "  The  fact 
is,  I  was  ruined  by  having  money  left  me." 

I 


234 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^^Come,  come/'  said  Sam,  ^^that  von't  do.  I  wish 
some  rich  enemy  'ud  try  to  vork  my  destruction  in  that 
'ere  vay.    I'd  let  him." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  you  don't  believe  it,"  said  the  cobbler, 
quietly  smoking  his  pipe.  I  wouldn't  if  I  was  you; 
but  it's  true  for  all  that." 

''How  wos  it?"  inquired  Sam,  half  induced  to  believe 
the  fact  already,  by  the  look  the  cobbler  gave  him. 

''Just  this,"  replied  the  cobbler;  "  an  old  gentleman 
that  I  worked  for,  down  in  the  country,  and  a  humble 
relation  of  whose  I  married — she's  dead,  God  bless  her, 
and  thank  Him  for  it! — was  seized  with  a  fit  and  went 
off." 

^' Where?"  inquired  Sam,  who  was  growing  sleepy 
after  the  numerous  events  of  the  day. 

"How  should  I  know  where  he  went?"  said  the  cob- 
bler, speaking  through  his  nose  in  an  intense  enjoyment 
of  his  pipe.    "He  went  off  dead." 

"  Oh,  that  indeed,"  said  Sam.    "  Well?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  cobbler,  "  he  left  five  thousand  pound 
behind  him." 

"  And  worry  genteel  in  him  so  to  do,"  said  Sam. 

"One  of  which,"  continued  the  cobbler,  "he  left  to 
me,  'cause  I'd  married  his  relation,  you  see." 

"  Werry  good,"  murmured  Sam. 

"And  being  surrounded  by  a  great  number  of  nieces 
and  nevys,  as  was  always  a  quarrelling  and  fighting 
among  themselves  for  the  property,  he  makes  me  his 
executor,  and  leaves  the  rest  to  me:  in  trust,  to  divide 
it  among  'em  as  the  will  prowided." 

"  Wot  do  you  mean  by  leaving  it  on  trust?"  inquired 
Sam,  waking  up  a  little.  "If  it  ain't  ready  money, 
were's  the  use  on  it?" 

"It's  a  law  term,  that's  all,"  said  the  cobbler. 

"  I  don't  think  that,"  said  Sam,  shaking  his  head. 
"  There's  werry  little  trust  at  that  shop.  Hows'ever,  go 
on." 

"  Well,"  said  the  cobbler,  "  when  I  was  going  to  take 
out  a  probate  of  the  will,  the  nieces  and  nevys,  who  was 
desperately  disappointed  at  not  getting  all  the  money, 
enters  a  caveat  against  it." 

"  What's  that?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  A  legal  instrument,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say  it's 
no  go,"  replied  the  cobbler. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


235 


'^I  see,"  said  Sam,  "  Si  sort  of  brother-in-law  o' the 
have-his-carcase.  Well 

'"But,"  continued  the  cobbler,  ''finding  that  they 
couldn't  agree  among  themselves,  and  consequently 
couldn't  get  up  a  case  against  the  will,  they  withdrew 
the  caveat,  and  I  paid  all  the  legacies.  I'd  hardly  done 
it,  when  one  nevy  brings  an  action  to  set  the  will  aside. 
The  case  comes  on,  some  months  afterwards,  afore  a 
deaf  old  gentleman,  in  a  back  room  somewhere  down 
by  Paul's  Churchyard;  and  arter  four  counsels  had  taken 
a  day  apiece  to  buther  him  regularly,  he  takes  a  day  or 
two  to  consider,  and  read  the  evidence  in  six  voUums, 
and  then  gives  his  judgment  that  how  the  testator  was 
not  quite  right  in  his  head,  and  I  must  pay  all  the 
money  back  again,  and  all  the  costs.  I  appealed;  the 
case  come  on  before  three  or  four  very  sleepy  gentle- 
men, who  had  heard  it  all  before  in  the  other  court, 
where  they're  lawyers  without  work;  the  only  difference 
being  that  there  they're  called  doctors,  and  in  the 
other  place  delegates,  if  you  understand  that;  and  they 
very  dutifully  confirmed  the  decision  of  the  old  gentle- 
man below.  After  that,  we  went  into  Chancery,  where 
we  are  still,  and  where  I  shall  always  be.  My  lawyers 
have  had  all  my  thousand  pound  long  ago;  and  what 
between  the  estate,  as  they  call  it,  and  the  costs,  I'm 
here  for  ten  thousand,  and  shall  stop  here,  till  I  die, 
mending  shoes.  Some  gentlemen  have  talked  of  bring- 
ing it  afore  Parliament,  and  I  dare  say  would  have  done 
it,  only  they  hadn't  time  to  come  to  me,  and  I  hadn't 
power  to  go  to  them,  and  they  got  tired  of  my  long 
letters,  and  dropped  the  business.  And  this  is  God's 
truth,  without  one  word  of  suppression  or  exaggeration, 
as  fifty  people,  both  in  this  place  and  out  of  it,  very  well 
know." 

The  cobbler  paused  to  ascertain  what  effect  his  story 
had  produced  on  Sam;  but  finding  that  he  had  dropped 
asleep,  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  sighed,  put  it 
down,  drew  the  bedclothes  over  his  head,  and  went  to 
sleep  too. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sitting  at  breakfast,  alone,  next 
morning:  Sam  being  busily  engaged  in  the  cobbler's 
room,  polishing  his  mastc^r's  shoes  and  brushing  the 
black  gaiters:  wlien  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door, 
which,  b(ifore  Mr.  Pickwick  could  cry  ''Come  in,"  was 


236 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


followed  by  the  appearance  of  a  head  of  hair  and  a  cot- 
ton-velvet cap,  both  of  which  articles  of  dress  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  as  the  the  personal  property  of 
Mr.  Smangle. 

"  How  are  you?"  said  that  worthy,  accompanying  the 
inquiry  with  a  score  or  two  of  nods;  "  I  say — do  you  ex- 
pect anybody  this  morning?  Three  men— devilish  gen- 
tlemanly fellows — have  been  asking  after  you  down 
stairs,  and  knocking  at  every  door  on  the  hall  flight;  for 
which  tliey've  been  most  infernally  blown  up  by  the  col 
ieg-ians  that  had  the  trouble  of  opening  'eiii." 

"  Dear  me!  how  very  foolish  of  them/'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, rising.  /^Yes;  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  some 
friends  whom  I  rather  expected  to  see  yesterday." 

Friends  of  yours!"  exclaimed  Smangle,  seizing  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  hand.  ^^Say  no  more.  Curse  me, 
they're  friends  of  mine  from  this  minute,  and  friends  of 
Mivins's  too.  Infernal  pleasant,  gentlemanly,  dog, 
Mivins,  isn't  he?"  said  Smangle,  with  great  feeling. 

I  know  so  little  of  the  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, hesitating,  ^^that  I — " 

''I  know  you  do,"  interposed  Smangle,  clasping  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  shoulder !  ' '  You  shall  know  him  better. 
You'll  be  delighted  with  him.  That  man,  sir,"  said 
Smangle,  with  a  solemn  countenance,  has  comic  powers 
that  would  do  honor  to  Drury  Lane  Theatre." 

'^Has  he,  indeed?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  by  Jove,  he  has!"  replied  Smangle.  ^'  Hear  him 
come  the  four  cats  in  the  wheelbarrow — four  distinct 
cats,  sir,  I  pledge  you  ray  honour.  Now  you  know  that's 
infernal  clever!  Dam'me,  you  can't  help  liking  a  man 
when  you  see  these  traits  about  him.  He's  only  one 
fault — that  little  failing  I  mentioned  to  you,  you  know." 

As  Mr.  Smangle  shook  his  head  in  a  confidential  and 
sympathizing  manner  at  this  juncture,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt 
that  he  was  expected  to  say  something,  so  he  said  ''Ah!" 
and  looked  restlessly  at  the  door. 

''Ah!"  echoed  Mr.  Smangle,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh. 
"He's  delightful  company ,  that  man  is,  sir — I  don't  know 
better  company  anywhere;  but  he  has  that  one  draw- 
back. If  the  ghost  of  his  grandfather,  sir,  was  to  rise 
before  him  this  minute,  he'd  ask  him  for  the  loan  of  his 
acceptance  on  an  eighteenpenny  stamp." 

"Dear  me!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 


TtlE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


Yes,"  added  Mr.  Smangle;  ''and  if  he'd  the  power 
of  raising  him  again,  he  would,  in  tw^o  months  and  three 
days  from  this  time,  to  renew  the  bill!" 

'*  These  are  very  remarkable  traits,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; ''but  Pm  afraid  that  while  we  are  talking  here 
my  friends  may  be  in  a  state  of  great  perplexity  at  not 
finding  me.' 

"  I'll  show  'em  the  way,"  said  Smangle,  making  for 
the  door.  ' '  Good-day.  I  won't  disturb  you  while  they're 
here,  you  know.    By-the-bye — " 

As  Smangle  pronounced  the  last  three  words  he  stopped 
suddenly,  reclosed  tVie  door  which  he  had  opened,  and, 
walking  softly  back  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  stepped  close  up 
to  him  on  tiptoe,  and  said,  in  a  very  soft  whisper: 

"You  couldn't  make  it  convenient  to  lend  me  half-a- 
crown  till  the  latter  end  of  next  week,  could  you  ?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  scarcely  forbear  smiling,  but, 
managing  to  preserve  his  gravity,  he  drew  forth  the 
coin,  and  placed  it  in  Mr.  Smangie's  I3alm;  upon  which 
that  gentleman,  with  many  nods  and  winks,  implying 
profound  mystery,  disappeared  in  quest  of  the  three 
strangers,  with  whom  he  presently  returned,  and  havinr^ 
coughed  thrice  and  nodded  as  many  times,  as  an  assur-^ 
ance  to  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  should  not  forget  to  pay, 
he  shook  hands  all  round  in  an  engaging  manner,  and  at 
length  took  himself  off. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  shaking  hands 
alternately  with  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  who  were  the  three  visitors  in  question,  '*  I 
am  delighted  to  see  you." 

The  triumvirate  were  much  affected.  Mr.  Tupman 
shook  his  head  deploringly;  Mr.  Snodgrass  drew  forth 
his  handkerchief  with  undisguised  emotion;  and  Mr. 
Winkle  retired  to  the  window  and  sniffed  aloud, 

"Mornin',  gen'l'm'n,'  said  Sam,  entering  at  the  mo- 
ment with  the  shoes  and  gaiters;  "away  with  melin- 
choUy,  as  the  little  boy  said  ven  his  school-missis  died. 
Velcome  to  the  College,  gen'l'm'n." 

"  This  foolish  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  tapping  Sam 
on  the  head  as  he  knelt  down  to  button  up  his  master's 
gaiters;  "this  foolish  fellow  has  got  himself  arrested, 
in  order  to  be  near  me." 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  the  three  friends. 

"Yes,  gen'l'm'n,"  said  Sam,  "  I'm  a — stand  steady,  sir, 


238 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


if  you  please — Fm  a  pris'ner,  gen'Fm'n:  con-fined,  as  the 
lady  said." 

A  prisoner!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  with  unac- 
countable vehemence. 

Hallo,  sir  !"  responded  Sam,  looking  up.  ^'Wot's 
the  matter,  sir  ?  " 

I  had  hoped,  Sam,  that — nothing,  nothing,"  said 
Mr.  Winkle,  precipitately. 

There  was  something  so  very  abrupt  and  unsettled 
in  Mr.  Winkle's  manner  that  Mr.  Pickwick  involuntarily 
looked  at  his  two  friends  for  an  explanation. 

'"  We  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  answering  this 
mute  appeal  aloud.  "  He  has  been  much  excited  for  two 
days  past,  and  his  whole  demeanour  very  unlike  what 
it  usually  is.  We  fear  there  must  be  something  the 
matter,  but  he  resolutely  denies  it." 

No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  colouring  beneath  Mr. 
Pickwick's  gaze,  ''there  is  really  nothing.  I  assure  you 
there  is  nothing,  my  dear  sir.  It  will  be  necessary  for 
me  to  leave  town  for  a  short  time  on  private  business, 
and  I  had  hoped  to  have  prevailed  upon  you  to  allow 
Sam  to  accompany  me." 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  more  astonished  than  before. 

"  I  think,"  faltered  Mr.  Winkle,  "  that  Sam  would 
have  no  objection  to  do  so ;  but,  of  course,  his  being  a 
prisoner  here  renders  it  impossible.  So  I  must  go 
alone." 

As  Mr.  Winkle  said  these  words  Mr.  Pickwick  felt, 
with  some  astonishment,  that  Sam's  fingers  were  trem- 
bling at  the  gaiters,  as  if  he  were  rather  surprised  or 
startled.  Sam  looked  up  at  Mr.  Winkle,  too,  when  ho 
had  finished  speaking;  and  though  the  glance  they  ex- 
changed was  instantaneous,  they  seemed  to  understand 
each  other. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  this,  Sam?"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  sharply. 

''No,  I  don't,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  beginning  to 
button  with  extraordinary  assiduity.  ' 

"Are  you  sure,  Sam  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wy,  sir,"  responded  Mr.  Weller,  "I  am  sure  so  far 
that  I've  never  heerd  any  thin'  on  the  subject  afore  this 
moment.  If  I  makes  any  guess  about  it,"  added  Sam, 
looking  at  Mr.  Winkle,  "  I  haven't  got  any  right  to  say 
what  it  is,  fear  it  should  be  a  wrong  'un," 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


239 


I  have  no  right  to  make  any  further  inquiry  into  the 
private  affairs  of  a  friend,  hov\rever  intimate  a  one," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  short  silence;  at  present  let 
me  merely  say  that  I  do  not  understand  this  at  all. 
There — we  have  had  quite  enough  of  the  subject." 

Thus  expressing  himself,  Mr.  Pickwick  led  the  con- 
versation to  different  topics,  and  Mr.  Winkle  gradually 
appeared  more  at  ease,  though  still  very  far  from  being 
completely  so.  They  had  all  so  much  to  converse  about 
that  the  morning  very  quickly  passed  away:  and  when, 
at  three  o'clock,  Mr.  Weller  produced  upon  the  little  din- 
ing table  a  roast  leg  of  mutton  and  an  enormous  meat 
pie:  with  sundry  dishes  of  vegetables,  and  pots  of  porter, 
which  stood  upon  the  chairs,  or  the  sofa-bedstead,  or 
where  they  could:  everybody  felt  disposed  to  do  justice  to 
the  meal,  notwithstanding  that  the  meat  had  been  pur- 
chased and  dressed,  and  the  pie  made  and  baked,  at  the. 
prison  cookery  hard  by. 

To  these  succeeded  a  bottle  or  two  of  very  good  wine, 
for  which  a  messenger  was  despatched  by  Mr.  Pickwick 
to  the  Horn  Coffeehouse,  in  Doctors'  Commons.  The 
bottle  or  two,  indeed,  might  be  more  properly  described 
as  a  bottle  or  six,  for  by  the  time  it  was  drunk  and  tea 
over,  the  bell  began  to  ring  for  strangers  to  withdraw. 

But  if  Mr.  Winkle's  behaviour  had  been  unaccount- 
able in  the  morning,  it  became  perfectly  unearthly  and 
solemn  when,  under  the  influence  of  his  feelings,  and 
his  share  of  the  bottle  or  six,  he  prepared  to  take  leave 
of  his  friend.  He  lingered  behind,  until  Mr.  Tupman 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  disappeared,  and  then  f ervent  ly 
clenched  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand,  with  an  expression  of 
face  in  which  deep  and  mighty  resolve  was  fearfully 
blended  with  the  very  concentrated  essence  of  gloom. 

"  Good  night,  my  dear  sir?"  said  Mr.  Winkle  between 
his  set  teeth. 

"  Bless  you,  my  dear  fellow!"  replied  the  warm-hearted 
Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  returned  the  pressure  of  his  young 
friend's  hand. 

Now,  then!"  cried  Mr.  Tupman  ,from  the  gallery. 

''Yes,  yes,  directly,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  ''Good 
night!" 

•'  Good  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
There  was  another  good  nie:ht,  and  anotlier,  and  half- 
a-dozen  more  after  that,  and  still  Mr,  Winkle  had  fast 


240  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


hold  of  his  friend's  hand,  and  was  looking  into  his  face 
with  the  same  strange  expression. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  last, 
when  his  arm  was  quite  sore  with  shaking. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 
Well  then,  good  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  attempt- 
ing to  disengage  his  hand. 

"  My  friend,  my  benefactor,  my  honoured  companion," 
murmured  Mr.  Winkle,  catching  at  his  wrist.  "  Do  not 
judge  me  harshly;  do  not  when  you  hear  that,  driven  to 
extremity  by  hopeless  obstacles,  I — " 

'•'Now,  then,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  re-appearing  at  the 
door.    "  Are  you  coming,  or  are  we  to  be  locked  in?" 

''Yes,  yes,  I  am  ready,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  And 
with  a  violent  effort  he  tore  himself  away. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  was  gazing  down  the  passage  after 
them  in  silent  astonishment,  Sam  Weller  appeared  at 
the  stair-head,  and  whispered  for  one  moment  in  Mr. 
Winkle's  ear. 

"  Oh,  certainly,  depend  upon  me,"  said  that  gentleman, 
aloud. 

"Thankee,  sir.    You  won't  forget,  sir?"  said  Sam. 
Of  course  not,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Wish  you  luck,  sir,"  said  Sam,  touching  his  hat.  "I 
should  very  much  liked  to  ha'  joined  you,  sir;  but  the 
gov'ner  o'  course  is  pairamount." 

"It  is  very  much  to  your  credit  that  you  remain  here," 
said  Mr.  Winkle.  With  these  words  they  disappeared 
down  the  stairs. 

"  Very  extraordinary,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  going  back 
into  his  room,  and  seating  himself  at  the  table  in  a  mus- 
ing attitude.  "What  can  that  young  man  be  going  to 
do!" 

He  had  sat  ruminating  about  the  matter  for  some  time, 
when  the  voice  of  Roker,  the  turnkey,  demanded  whether 
he  might  come  in. 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Pve  brought  you  a  softer  pillow,  sir,"  said  Roker, 
"  instead  of  the  temporary  one  you  had  last  night." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Will  you  take  a 
glass  of  wine?" 

"  You're  werry  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Roker,  accept- 
ing the  proffered  glass.    "  Yours,  sir." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


241 


"  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  your  landlord's  very  bad  to- 
night, sir,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  setting  down  his  glass, 
and  inspecting  the  lining  of  his  hat  preparatory  to  put- 
ting it  on  again. 

''What!  The  Chancery  prisoner!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  He  won't  be  a  Chancery  prisoner  worry  long,  sir," 
replied  Roker,  turning  his  hat  round,  so  as  to  get  the 
maker's  name  right  side  upwards,  as  he  looked  into  it. 
You  make  my  blood  run  cold,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

What  do  you  mean? " 

'-He's  been  consumptive  for  a  long  time  past,"  said 
Mr.  Roker,  ''  and  he's  taken  worry  bad  in  breath  to-night. 
The  doctor  said,  six  months  ago,  that  nothing  but  change 
of  air  could  save  him." 

"Great  heaven!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick;  "has  this 
man  been  slowly  murdered  by  the  lav/  for  six  months! " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  sir,"  replied  Roker,  weighing 
the  hat  by  the  brims  in  both  hands.  "  I  suppose  he'd 
have  been  took  the  sp.me  wherever  he  was.  He  went 
into  the  infirmary  this  morning;  the  doctor  says  his 
strength  is  to  be  kept  up  as  much  as  possible;  and  the 
warden's  sent  him  wine  and  broth  and  that,  from  his 
own  house.    It's  not  the  v/arden's  fault,  you  know,  sir." 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

"I'm  afraid,  however,  said  Roker,  shaking  his  head, 
"that  it's  all  up  with  him.  I  offered  Neddy  two  six- 
penn'orths  to  one  upon  it  just  now,  but  he  wouldn't  take 
it,  and  quite  right.    Thankee,  sir.    Good  night,  sir." 

"Stay,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly.  "Where  is  this 
infirmary?  " 

"  Just  over  where  you  slept,  sir,"  replied  Roker.  "  I'll , 
show  you,  if  you  like  to  come."  Mr.  Pickwick  snatched  [ 
up  his  hat  without  speaking,  and  followed  at  once. 

The  turnkey  led  the  way  in  silence;  and,  gently  ra^ising 
the  latch  of  the  room-door,  motioned  Mr.  Pickwick  to 
enter.  It  was  a  large,  bare,  desolate  room,  with  a  num- 
ber of  stump  bedsteads  made  of  iron:  on  one  of  whicii 
lay  stretched  the  shade v/  of  a  man:  wan,  pale,  and 
ghastly.  His  breathing  was  hard  and  thick,  and  he 
moaned  painfully  as  it  came  and  went.  At  the  bedside 
sat  a  short  old  man  in  a  cobbler's  apron,  who,  by  the  aid 
of  a  pair  of  horn  spectacles,  was  reading  from  the  13ible 
aloud.    It  was  the  fortunate  legatee. 

I 


242  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


The  sick  man  laid  his  hand  upon  his  attendant's  arm, 
and  motioned  him  to  stop.  He  closed  the  book,  and  laid 
it  on  the  bed. 

Open  the  window/'  said  the  sick  man. 

"  He  did  so.  The  noise  of  carriages  and  carts;  the 
rattle  of  wheels;  the  cries  of  men  and  boys;  all  the  busy 
sounds  of  a  mighty  multitude  instinct  with  life  and 
occupation,  blended  into  one  deep  murmur,  floated  into 
the  room.  Above  the  hoarse  loud  hum  arose,  from  time 
to  time,  a  boisterous  laugh;  or  a  scrap  of  some  jingling 
song,  shouted  forth  by  one  of  the  giddy  crowd,  would 
strike  upon  the  ear  for  an  instant,  and  then  be  lost 
amidst  the  roar  of  voices  and  the  tramp  of  footsteps — 
the  breaking  of  the  billows  of  the  restless  sea  of  life, 
that  rolled  heavily  on  without.  Melancholy  sounds  to 
a  quiet  listener  at  any  time;  how  melancholy  to  the 
watcher  by  the  bed  of  death! 

''There  is  no  air  here,"  said  the  sick  man,  faintly. 
"  The  place  pollutes  it;  it  was  fresh  round  about,  when 
I  walked  there,  years  ago;  but  it  grows  hot  and  heavy 
in  passing  these  walls.    I  cannot  breathe  it." 

We  have  breathed  it  together  for  a  long  time,"  said 
the  old  man.    "  Come,  come!" 

There  was  a  short  silence,  during  which  the  two  spec- 
tators approached  the  bed.  The  sick  man  drev/  a  hand 
of  his  old  fellovsT  prisoner  towards  him,  and  pressing  it 
affectionately  between  both  his  own,  retained  it  in  his 
grasp. 

"  I  hope,"  he  gasped  after  a  w^hile — so  faintly  that  they 
bent  their  ears  close  over  the  bed,  to  catch  the  half- 
formed  sounds  his  lips  gave  vent  to — "  I  hope  my  merci- 
ful Judge  will  bear  in  mind  my  heavy  punishment  on 
earth.  Twenty  years,  my  friend,  twenty  years  in  this 
hideous  grave!  My  heart  broke  when  my  child  died, 
and  I  could  not  even  kis-s  him  in  his  little  coffin.  My 
loneliness  since  then,  in  all  this  noise  and  riot,  has  been 
very  dreadful.  May  God  forgive  me!  He  has  seen  my 
solitary,  lingering  death." 

He  folded  his  hands,  and  murmuring  something  more 
they  could  not  hear,  fell  into  a  sleep — only  a  sleep  at 
first,  for  they  saw  him  smile. 

They  whispered  together  for  a  little  time,  and  the 
turnkey,  stooping  over  the  pillow,  drew  hastily  back. 
^'He  has  got  his  discharge,  by  G — !"  said  the  man. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


243 


He  had.  But  he  had  grown  so  like  death  in  life  that 
they  knew  not  when  he  died. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

DESCRIPTIVE  OF  AN  AFFECTING  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  MR. 
SAMUEL  WELLER  AND  A  FAMILY  PARTY.  MR.  PICKWICK 
MAKES  A  TOUR  OF  THE  DIMINUTIVE  WORLD  HE  INHABITS, 
AND  RESOLVES  TO  MIX  WITH  IT,  IN  FUTURE,  AS  LITTLE 
AS  POSSIBLE. 

A  FEW  mornings  after  his  incarceration,  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  having  arranged  his  master's  room  with  all  pos- 
sible care,  and  seen  him  comfortably  seated  over  his 
books  and  papers,  withdrew  to  employ  himself  for  an 
hour  or  two  to  come,  as  best  he  could.  It  was  a  fine 
morning,  and  it  occurred  to  Sam  that  a  pint  of  porter  in 
the  open  air  would  lighten  his  next  quarter  of  an  hour 
or  so,  as  well  as  any  little  amusement  in  which  he  could 
indulge. 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  he  betook  himself 
to  the  tap,  and  having  purchased  the  beer,  and  obtained, 
moreover,  the  day-but-one-before-yesterday's  paper,  he 
repaired  to  the  skittle-ground,  and  seating  himself  on  a 
bench,  proceeded  to  enjoy  himself  in  a  very  sedate  and 
methodical  manner. 

First  of  all,  he  took  a  refreshing  draught  of  the  beer, 
and  then  he  looked  up  at  the  window  and  bestowed  a 
Platonic  wink  on  a  young  lady  who  was  peeling  potatoes 
thereat.  Then  he  opened  the  paper  and  folded  it  so  as 
to  get  the  police  reports  outward;  and  this  being  a  vex- 
atious and  difficult  thing  to  do,  when  there  is  any  wind 
stirring,  he  took  another  draught  of  the  beer  when  he 
had  accomplished  it.-  Then  he  read  two  lines  of  the  pa- 
per, and  stopped  short  to  look  at  a  couple  of  men  who 
were  finishing  a  game  at  rackets,  which,  being  con- 
cluded, he  cried  out werry  good"  in  an  approving  man- 
ner, and  looked  round  upon  the  spectators  to  ascc^rtain 
whether  their  sentiments  coincided  with  his  own.  Tliis 
involved  the  necessity  of  looking  up  at  tlie  windows 
also;  and  as  tlie  young  liuly  was  still  there,  it  wns  an 
act  of  common  poiiteness  to  wink  again,  and  to  drink  to 


244  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


her  good  health  in  dumb  show,  in  another  draught  of 
the  beer,  which  Sam  did;  and  having  frowned  hideously 
upon  a  small  boy  who  had  noted  this  latter  proceeding 
with  open  eyes,  he  threw  one  leg  over  the  other,  and, 
holding  the  newspaper  in  both  hands,  began  to  read  in 
real  earnest. 

He  had  hardly  composed  himself  into  the  needful 
state  of  abstraction,  v/hen  he  thought  he  heard  his  own 
name  proclaimed  in  some  distant  passage.  Nor  was  lie 
mistaken,  for  it  quickly  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  the  air  teemed  with  shouts  of 
^^Weller!" 

^^Here!"  roared  Sam,  in  a  stentorian  voice.  Wot's 
the  matter?  Who  wants  him?  Has  an  express  come  to 
say  that  his  country-house  is  a-fire?" 

''Somebody  wants  you  in  the  hall,"  said  a  man  who 
was  standing  by. 

"  Just  mind  that  'ere  paper  and  the  pot,  old  feller,  will 
you?"  said  Sam.  "Vm  a  comin'.  Blessed,  if  they  wos 
a  callin'  me  to  the  bar,  they  couldn't  make  more  noise 
about  it." 

Accompanying  these  words  with  a  gentle  rap  on  the 
head  of  the  young  gentleman  before  noticed,  who,  un- 
conscious of  his  close  vicinity  to  the  person  in  request, 
was  screaming  ''  Weller! "  with  all  his  might,  Sam  has- 
tened across  the  ground,  and  ran  up  the  steps  into  the 
hall.  Here,  the  first  object  that  met  his  eyes  was  his 
beloved  father  sitting  on  a  bottom  stair,  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand,  shouting  out '' Weller!"  in  his  very  loudest 
tones  at  half -minute  intervals. 

''Wot  are  you  a  roarin'  at?"  said  Sam,  impetuously, 
when  the  old  gentleman  had  discharged  himself  of  an- 
other shout;  "  makin'  yourself  so  precious  hot  that  you 
looks  like  a  aggrawated  glass-blovv^er.  Wot's  the 
matter?" 

"Ah!"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  "I  begun  to  be 
afeerd  that  you'd  gone  for  a  walk'  round  the  Regency 
Park,  Sammy." 

"Come,"  said  Sam,  "none  o'  them  taunts  agin  the 
wictim  o'  avarice,  and  come  off  that  'ere  step.  Wot  are 
you  a  settin'  down  there  for?  I  don't  live  there." 

"  I've  got  sich  a  game  for  you,  Sammy,"  said  the  elder 
Mr.  Weller,  rising. 

*'Stop  a  minit,"  said  Sam,  "you're  all  vite  behind." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


245 


That's  right,  Sammy,  rub  it  of¥,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  as 
his  son  dusted  him.  ^'It  might  look  personal  here,  if  a 
man  walked  about  with  any  whitevash  on  his  clothes, 
eh,  Sammy?" 

As  Mr.  Weller  exhibited  in  this  place  unequivocal 
symptoms  of  an  approaching  fit  of  chuckling,  Sam  inter- 
posed to  stop  it. 

''Keep  quiet,  do,"  said  Sam,  ''there  never  vos  such  a 
old  picter-card  born.    Wot  are  you bustin' vith,  now?" 

"Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  wiping  his  forehead,  "  I'm 
afeerd  that  vun  o'  these  days  I  shall  laugh  myself  into 
a  appleplexy,  my  boy." 

"  Veil,  then,  wot  do  you  do  it  for?  "  said  Sam.  "  Now, 
wot  have  got  to  say?" 

"  Who  do  you  think's  come  here  with  me,  Samivel?" 
said  Mr.  Weller,  drawing  back  a  pace  or  two,  pursing 
up  his  mouth,  and  extending  his  eyebrows. 

"Pell?"  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  and  his  red  cheeks  ex- 
panded with  the  laughter  that  was  endeavouring  to  find 
a  vent. 

"  Mottled-faced  man,  p'r'aps?  "  suggested  Sam. 
Again  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head. 
"Who,  then?"  asked  Sam. 

"Your  mother-in-law,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  and  it  was 
lucky  he  did  say  it,  or  his  cheeks  must  inevitably  have 
cracked,  from  their  most  unnatural  distension. 

"Your  mother-in-law,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
"and  the  red-nosed  man,  my  boy;  and  the  red-nosed 
man.    Ho!  ho!  ho!" 

With  this,  Mr.  Weller  launched  into  convulsions  of 
laughter,  while  Sam  regarded  him,  with  a  broad  grin 
gradually  overspreading  his  whole  countenance. 

"  They've  come  to  have  a  little  serious  talk  vith  you, 
Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  wiping  his  ej^es.  "Don't  let 
out  nothin'  about  the  unnat'ral  creditor,  Sammy." 

"  Wot,  don't  they  know  who  it  is?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  Not  a  bit  on  it,"  replied  his  father. 

"  Vere  are  they?"  said  Sam,  reciprocating  all  the  old 
gentleman's  grins. 

"  In  the  snuggery,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  "  Catch  the 
red-nosed  man  a  goin'  anyvere  but  vere  the  licpiors  is; 
not  lie,  Samivel — not  he.  Ve'd  a  worry  pleasant  ride 
along  the  road  from  the  Markis  this  mornin',  Sammy," 


246 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


said  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  felt  himself  equal  to  the  task 
of  speaking  in  an  articulate  manner.  "  I  drove  the  old 
piebald  in  that  'ere  little  shay-cart  as  belonged  to  your 
mother-in-law's  first  wenter,  into  vich.a  harm-cheer  wos 
lifted  for  the  shepherd;  and  I'm  blest,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
with  a  look  of  deep  scorn — '^I'm  blest  if  they  didn't 
bring  a  portable  flight  o'  steps  out  into  the  road  a  front 
o'  our  door,  for  him  to  get  up  by." 
You  don't  mean  that?"  said  Sam. 

''I  do  mean  that,  Sammy,"  replied  his  father,  ''and  I 
vish  you  could  ha'  seen  how  tight  he  held  on  by  the 
sides  wen  he  did  get  up,  as  if  he  wos  afeerd  o'  being 
precipitayted  down  full  six  foot,  and  dashed  into  a  mil- 
lion o'  hatoms.  He  tumbled  in  at  last,  however,  and 
away  ve  vent;  and  I  rayther  think — I  say  I  rayther 
think,  Samivel — that  he  found  himself  a  little  jolted  wen 
we  turned  the  corners." 

''Wot,  I  s'pose  you  happened  to  drive  up  agin  a  post 
or  two?"  said  Sam. 

"I'm  afeerd,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  rapture  of 
winks,  "I'm  afeerd  I  took  vun  or  two  on  'em, 
Sammy;  he  wos  a  fly  in'  out  o'  the  harm-cheer  all  the 
way." 

Here  the  old  gentleman  shook  his  head  from  side  to 
side,  and'  was  seized  with  a  hoarse  internal  rumbling, 
accompanied  with  a  violent  swelling  of  the  countenance, 
and  a  sudden  increase  in  the  breadth  of  all  his  features 
—symptoms  which  alarmed  his  son  not  a  little. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Sammy;  don't  be  frightened," 
said  the  old  gentleman,  when,  by  dint  of  much  strug- 
gling, and  various  convulsive  stamps  upon  the  groun^, 
he  had  recovered  his  voice.  "  It's  only  a  kind  o'  quiet 
laugh  as  I'm  a  tryin'  to  come,  Sammy." 

"Well,  if  that's  wot  it  is,"  said  Sam,  "you'd  better 
not  try  to  come  it  agin.  You  find  it  raytlier  a  danger- 
ous inwention." 

"Don't  you  like  it,  Sammy?"  inquired  the  old  gentle- 
man. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Sam. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  tears  still  running 
down  his  cheeks,  "it  'ud  ha'  been  a  worry  great  accom- 
modation to  me  if  I  could  ha'  done  it,  and  'ud  ha'  saved 
a  good  many  vords  atween  your  mother-in-law  and  me, 
sometimes;  but  I'm  afeerd  you're  right,  Sammy:  it's  too 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


much  in  the  appleplexy  line — a  deal  too  much, 
Samivel." 

This  conversation  brought  them  to  the  door  of  the 
snuggery,  into  which  Sam — pausing  for  an  instant  to 
look  over  his  shoulder,  and  cast  a  sly  leer  at  his  re- 
spected progenitor,  who  was  still  giggling  behind — at 
once  led  the  way. 

''Mother-in-law,"  said  Sam,  politely  saluting  the  lady, 
''worry  much  obliged  to  you  for  this  here  wisit.  Shep- 
herd, how  air  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  Samuel!"  said  Mrs.  Weller.  "  This  is  dreadful." 

"  Not  a  bit  on  it,  mum/'  replied  Sam.  "  Is  it,  shep- 
herd ? " 

Mr.  Stiggins  raised  his  hands,  and  turned  up  his  eyes, 
till  the  whites — or  rather  the  yellows — were  alone  visible, 
but  made  no  reply  in  words. 

"Is  this  here  gen'l'm'n  troubled  vith  any  painful  com- 
plaint?" said  Sam,  looking  to  his  mother-in-law  for 
explanation. 

"  The  good  man  is  grieved  to  see  you  here,  Samuel," 
replied  Mrs.  Weller. 

'•  Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  Sam.  "  I  wos  afeerd,  from 
liis  manner,  that  he  might  ha'  forgotten  to  take  pepper 
vith  that  'ere  last  cowcumber  he  eat.  Set  down,  sir;  ve 
make  no  extra  charge  for  the  settin'  down,  as  the  king 
remarked  wen  he  blow'd  up  his  ministers." 

"Young  man,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  ostentatiously,  "I 
fear  you  are  not  softened  by  imprisonment." 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  "wot  wos  you 
graciously  pleased  to  hobserve?" 

"I  apprehend,  young  man,  that  your  nature  is  no 
softer  for  this  chastening,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  a  loud 
voice. 

"  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  "you  're  worry  kind  to  say  so.  I 
hope  my  natur  is  not  a  soft  vun,  sir.  Worry  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  good  opinion,  sir." 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation  a  sound,  indecorously 
approaching  to  a  laugh,  was  heard  to  proceed  from  tlu^ 
chair  in  which  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  was  seated;  ui)on 
which  Mrs.  Weller,  on  a  hasty  consideration  of  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  cas(^,  considered  it  her  bounden 
duty  to  become  gradually  hysterical. 

"  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  W.  (the  old  gentleman  was  seated 
in  a  corner);  "Weller!  (-ome  forth." 


248 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  Werry  much  obleeged  to  you,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr, 
Weller;  ''but  I'm  quite  comfortable  vere  I  am." 

Upon  this,  Mrs.  Weller  burst  into  tears. 

'' Wot's  gone  wrong,  mum?"  said  Sam. 

''Oh,  Samuel!"  replied  Mrs.  Weller,  "your  father 
makes  me  wretched.    Will  nothing  do  him  good?" 

''  Do  you  hear  this  here?"  said  Sam.  "  Lady  vants  to 
know  vether  nothin'  'ull  do  you  good." 

"  Werry  much  indebted  to  Mrs.  Weller  for  her  po-lite 
inquiries,  Sammy,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  think 
a  pipe  vould  benefit  me  a  good  deal.  Could  I  be  ac- 
commodated, Sammy?" 

Here  Mrs.  Weller  let  fall  some  more  tears,  and  Mr. 
Stiggins  groaned. 

"Hallo!  here's  this  unfort'nate  gen'l'm'n  took  ill 
agin,"  said  Sam,  looking  round.  "  Were  do  you  feel  it 
now,  sir?" 

"In  the  same  place,  young  man,"  rejoined  Mr.  Stig- 
gins: "  in  the  same  place." 

"Were  may  that  be,  sir?"  inquired  Sam,  with  great 
outward  simplicity. 

"In  the  buzzim,  young  man,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins, 
placing  his  umbrella  on  his  waistcoat. 

At  this  affecting  reply,  Mrs.  Weller,  being  wholly 
unable  to  suppress  her  feelings,  sobbed  aloud,  and  stated 
her  convictions  that  the  red-nosed  ma,n  was  a  saint; 
whereupon  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  ventured  to  suggest,  in 
an  under-tone,  that  he  must  be  the  representative  of 
the  united  parishes  of  Saint  Simon  Without,  and-  Saint 
Walker  Within. 

"I'm  afeerd,  mum,"  said  Sam,  "that  this  here 
gen'l'm'n,  with  the  twist  in  his  countenance,  feels 
rayther  thirsty,  with  the  melancholy  spectacle  afore 
him.    Is  it  the  case,  mum?" 

The  worthy  lady  looked  at  Mr.  Stiggins  for  a  reply; 
that  gentleman,  with  many  rollings  of  the  eye,  clenched 
his  throat  with  his  right  hand,  and  mimicked  the  act  of 
swallowing,  to  intimate  that  he  was  athirst. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Samuel,  that  his  feelings  have  made 
him  so,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  mournfully. 

"  Wot's  your  usual  tap,  sir?"  replied  Sam. 

"Oh,  my  dear  young  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  "all 
taps  is  vanities!" 

"Too  true;  too  true,  indeed,"    said    Mrs.  Weller, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


249 


murmuring  a  groan,  and  shaking  her  head  assent- 
ingly. 

''Well,"  said  Sam,  ''I  des-say  they  may  be,  sir;  but 
wich  is  your  partickler  wanity ?  Vich  do  you  like  the 
flavour  on  best,  sir?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  young  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  "  I 
despise  them  all.  If,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  ''if  there  is 
any  one  of  them  less  odious  than  another,  it  is  the 
liquor  called  rum — vv^arm,  my  dear  young  friend,  with 
three  lumps  of  sugar  to  the  tumbler." 

"  Werry  sorry  to  say,  sir," said  Sam,  "that  they  don't 
allow  that  partickler  wanity  to  be  sold  in  this  here  es- 
tablishment." 

"  Oh,  the  hardness  of  heart  of  these  inveterate  men!" 
ejaculated  Mr.- Stiggins.  "Oh,  the  accursed  cruelty  of 
these  inhuman  prosecutors!" 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Stiggins  again  cast  up  his 
eyes,  and  rapped  his  breast  with  his  umbrella;  and  it 
is  but  justice  to  the  reverend  gentleman  to  say  that  his 
indignation  appeared  very  real  and  unfeigned  indeed. 

After  Mrs.  Weller  and  the  red-nosed  gentleman  haxl 
commented  on  this  inhuman  usage  in  a  very  forcible 
manner,  and  had  vented  a  variety  of  pious  and  holy 
execrations  against  its  authors,  the  latter  recommended 
a  bottle  of  port  wine,  warm^ed  with  a  little  water,  spice, 
and  sugar,  as  being  grateful  to  the  stomach,  and  savour- 
ing less  of  vanity  than  many  other  compounds.  It  was 
accordingly  ordered  to  be  prepared;  pending  its  prepara- 
tion the  red-nosed  man  and  Mrs.  Weller  looked  at  the 
elder  W.  and  groaned. 

"  Well,  Sammy,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  I  hope  you'll 
find  your  spirits  rose  by  this  here  lively  wisit.  Werry 
cheerful  and  improvin'  conwersation,  ain't  it,  Sammy?" 

"You're  a  reprobate,"  replied  Sam;  "and  I  desire 
you  won't  address  no  more  o'  them  ungraceful  remarks 
to  me." 

So  far  from  being  edified  by  this  very  proper  reply, 
the  elder  Mr.  Weller  at  once  relapsed  into  a  broad  grin; 
and  this  inexorable  conduct  causing  the  lady  and  Mr. 
Stiggins  to  close  their  eyes,  and  rock  themselves  to  and 
fro  on  their  chairs,  in  a  tioubled  manner,  he  further- 
more indulged  in  several  acts  of  pantomime,  indicative 
of  a  desire  to  pummel  and  wring  the  nose  of  the  afore- 
said Stiggins;  the  i^erf  ormance  of  which  seemed  to  afford 


350 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


him  great  mental  relief.  The  old  gentleman  very  nar- 
rowly escaped  detection  in  one  instance;  for  Mr.  Stig- 
gins  happening  to  give  a  start  on  the  arrival  of  the  negus, 
brought  his  head  in  sharp  contact  with  the  clenched  fist 
with  which  Mr.  Weller  had  been  describing  imaginary 
fireworks  in  the  air,  within  two  inches  of  his  ear,  for 
some  minutes. 

"  Wot  are  you  reachin'  out  your  hand  for  the  tumbler 
in  tha.t  'ere  sawage  way  for?"  said  Sam,  with  great 
promptitude.    "  Don't  you  see  you've  hit  the  gen'l'm'n?" 

'"I  didn't  go  to  do  it,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in 
some  degree  abashed  by  the  very  unexpected  occurrence 
of  the  incident. 

"  Try  an  in'ard  application,  sir,"  said  Sam,  as  the  red- 
nosed  gentleman  rubbed  his  head  with  a  rueful  visage. 
"  Wot  do  you  think  o'  that,  for  a  go  o'  wanity  warm, 
sir?" 

Mr.  Stiggins  made  no  verbal  answer,  but  his  manner 
was  expressive.  He  tasted  the  contents  of  the  glass 
which  Sam  had  placed  in  his  hand;  put  his  umbrella  on 
the  floor,  and  tasted  it  again:  passing  his  hand  placidly 
across  his  stomach  twice  ox  thrice;  he  then  drank  the 
whole  at  a  breath,  and  smacking  his  lips  held  out  the 
tumbler  for  more. 

Nor  was  Mrs.  Weller  behind-hand  in  doing  justice  to 
the  composition.  The  good  lady  began  by  protesting 
that  she  couldn't  touch  a  drop — then  took  a  small  drop 
— then  a  large  drop — and  then  a  great  many  drops;  and 
her  feelings  being  of  the  nature  of  those  substances 
which  are  powerfully  affected  by  the  application  of 
strong  waters,  she  dropped  a  tear  with  every  drop  of 
negus,  and  so  got  on,  melting  the  feelings  down,  until 
at  length  she  had  arrived  at  a  very  pathetic  and  decent 
pitch  of  misery. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  observed  these  signs  and  tokens 
with  many  manifestations  of  disgust,  and  when,  after 
a  second  jug  of  the  same,  Mr.  Stiggins  began  to  sigh  in 
a  dismal  manner,  he  plainly  evinced  his  disapprobation 
of  the  whole  proceedings  by  sundry  incoherent  ram- 
blings  of  speech,  among  which  frequent  angry  repetitions 
of  the  word  '^gammon"  were  alone  distinguishable  to 
the  ear. 

"V\\  tell  you  wot  it  is,  Samivel,  my  boy,"  whispered 
the  old  gentleman  into  his  son's  ear^ after  a  long  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


251 


steadfast  contemplation  of  his  lady  and  Mr.  Stiggins;  "  I 
think  there  must  be  somethin'  wrong  in  your  mother-in- 
law's  inside,  as  veil  as  in  that  o'  the  red-nosed  man." 
''Wot  do  you  mean?"  said  Sam. 

''I  mean  this  here,  Sammy,"  replied  the  old  gentle- 
man, v*  that  wot  they  drink  don't  seem  no  nourishment 
to  'em;  it  all  turns  to  warm  water,  and  comes  pourin' 
out  o'  their  eyes.  'Pend  upon  it,  Sammy,  it's  a  consti- 
tootional  infirmity." 

Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  scientific  opinion  with  many 
confirmatory  frowns  and  nods:  which  Mrs.  Weller  re- 
marking, and  concluding  that  they  bore  some  disparag- 
ing reference  either  to  herself  or  to  Mr.  Stiggins,  or  to 
l>oth,  was  on  the  point  of  becoming  infinitely  worse, 
wlien  Mr.  Stiggins,  getting  on  his  legs  as  well  as  he 
could,  proceeded  to  deliver  an  edifying  discourse  for 
the  benefit  of  the  company,  but  more  especially  of  Mr. 
Samuel,  whom  he  adjured,  in  moving  terms,  to  be  upon 
his  guard  in  that  sink  of  iniquity  into  which  he  was 
cast;  to  abstain  from  all  hypocrisy  and  pride  of  heart; 
and  to  take  in  all  things  exact  pattern  and  copy  by  him 
(^Stiggins),  in  which  case  he  m.ight  calculate  on  arriv- 
ing, sooner  or  later,  at  the  comfortable  conclusion  that, 
like  him,  he  v/asamost  estimable  and  blameless  charac- 
ter, and  that  all  his  acquaintance  and  friends  were  hope- 
lessly abandoned  and  profligate  wretches:  which  con- 
sideration, he  said,  could  not  but  afford  him  the  liveliest 
satisfaction. 

He  furthermore  conjured  him  to  avoid,  above  all  things, 
the  vice  of  intoxication,  which  he  likened  unto  the  filthy 
habits  of  swine,  and  to  those  poisonous  and  baleful  drugs 
which,  being  chewed  in  the  mouth,  are  said  to  filch  away 
the  memory.  *  At  this  point  of  his  discourse  the  rev- 
erend and  red-nosed  gentlemen  became  singularly  inco- 
herent, and  staggering  to  and  fro  in  the  excitement  of 
his  eloquence,  was  fain  to  catch  at  the  back  of  a  chair  to 
preserve  his  perpendicular. 

Mr.  Stiggins  clid  not  desire  his  hearers  to  be  upon  their 
guard  against  those  false  prophets  and  wretched  mockers 
of  religion  who,  without  sense  to  expound  its  first  doc- 
trines, or  hearts  to  feel  its  first  principles,  are  mori^  dan- 
gerous members  of  society  tluui  the  common  criminal; 
imposing,  as  they  n(^cossarily  <^o.  upon  the  weakest  and 
worst-informed  natures,  castin^  ;.co:ii  and  contempt  ou 


352  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


what  should  be  held  most  sacred,  and  bringing  into  par- 
tial disrepute  large  bodies  of  virtuous  and  well-conducted 
persons  of  many  excellent  sects  and  persuasions;  but  as 
he  leant  over  the  back  of  the  chair  for  a  considerable 
time,  and  closing  one  eye,  winked  a  good  deal  with  the 
other,  it  is  presumed  that  he  thought  all  this,  but  kepL 
it  to  himself. 

During  the  delivery  of  the  oration  Mrs.  Weller  sobbed 
and  wept  at  the  end  of  the  paragraphs:  while  Sam, sitting- 
cross-legged  on  a  chair  and  resting  his  arms  on  the  top- 
rail,  regarded  the  speaker  with  great  suavity  and  blaiid- 
ness  of  demeanour,  occasionally  bestowing  a  look  of 
recognition  on  the  old  gentleman,  who  was  de- 
lighted at  the  beginning,  and  went  to  sleep  about  half 
way. 

"  Brayvo!  worry  pretty!"  said  Sam,  when  the  red-nosed 
man,  having  finished,  pulled  his  worn  gloves  on:  there- 
by thrusting  his  fingers  through  the  broken  tops  till  the 
knuckles  were  disclosed  to  view — ^Sverry  pretty." 

I  hope  it  may  do  you  good,  Samuel,"  said  Mrs.  Wel- 
ler, solemnly. 

''I  think  it  vill,  mum,"  replied  Sam. 

''I  wish  I  could  hope  that  it  would  do  your  father 
good,"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Thank'ee,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior.    "  Hov/ 
do  you  find  yourself  arter  it,  my  love?" 
Scoffer!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Weller. 
Benighted  man!"  said  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins. 
If  I  don't  get  no  better  light  than  that  'ere  moonshine 
o'  your'n,  my  worthy  creetur,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  AVeller, 
"it's  worry  likely  as  I  shall  continey  to  be  a  night 
coach  till  I'm  took  off  the  road  altogether.    Now,  Mrs. 
We,  if  the  piebald  stands  at  livery  much  longer,  he'll 
stand  at  nothin'  as  we  go  back,  and  p'r'aps  that  'ere 
harm-cheer  'ull  be  tipped  over  into  some  hedge  or  an- 
other with  the  shepherd  in  it." 

At  this  sui)position  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  evi- 
dent consternation,  gathered  up  his  hat  and  umbrella 
and  proposed  an  immediate  departure,  to  which  Mrs. 
Weller  assented.  Sam  walked  with  them  to  the  lodge- 
gate  and  took  a  dutiful  leave. 

''A-do,  Samivel,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Wot's  a-do?"  inquired  Sam. 

''Weil,  good  bye,"then,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


253 


''Oh,  that's  wot  you're  aimin'  at,  is  it?"  said  Sam. 
''  Good  bye!" 

''  Sammy,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller^  looking;'  cautiously 
round;  ''my  duty  to  your  gov'ner,  and  tell  him  if  he 
thinks  better  o'  this  here  bis'ness,  to  com-moonicate  vith 
me.  Me  and  a  cab'net-maker  has  dewised  a  plan  for 
gettin'  him  out.  A  planner,  Samivel — a  planner!"  said 
Mr.  Weller,  striking  his  son  on  the  chest  with  the  back 
of  his  hand,  and  falling  back  a  step  or  two. 

' '  Wot  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Sam. 

"A  planner  forty,  Samivel,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  in  a 
still  more  mysterious  manner,  "  as  he  can  have  on  hire; 
vun  as  von't  play,  Sammy." 

"And  wot  'ud  be  the  good  o'  that?"  said  Sam. 

"Let  him  send  to  my  friend,  the  cab'net-maker,  to 
fetch  it  back,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "Are  you 
avake  now?" 

"  No,"  rejoined  Sam. 

"There  ain't  no  vurks  in  it,"  whispered  his  father. 
"It  u'll  hold  him  easy,  vith  his  hat  and  shoes  on,  and 
breathe  through  the  legs,  vich  is  holler.  Have  a  passage 
ready  taken  for  ^Merriker.  The  'Merrikin  gov'ment  vill 
never  give  him  up  ven  they  finds  as  he's  got  money  to 
spend,  Sammy,  Let  the  gov'ner  stop  there  till  Mrs. 
Bardell's  dead,  or  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg's  hung,  vich 
last  event  I  think  is  the  most  likely  to  happen  first, 
Sammy;  and  then  let  him  come  back  and  write  a  book 
about  the  'Merrikins  as"ll  pay  all  his  expenses  and  more, 
if  he  blows  'em  up  enough." 

Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  hurried  abstract  of  his  plot 
with  great  vehemence  of  whisper;  and  then,  as  if  fear- 
ful of  weakening  the  effect  of  the  tremendous  communi- 
cation, by  any  further  dialogue,  gave  the  coachman's 
salute,  and  vanished. 

Sam  had  scarcely  recovered  his  usual  composure  of 
countenance,  which  had  been  greatly  disturbed  by  the 
secret  communication  of  his  respected  relative,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  accosted  him. 

"  Sam,"  said  that  gentleman, 

"Sir,"  replied  Mr  Weller. 

"  1  am  going  for  a  walk  round  the  prison,  and  I  wish 
you  to  attend  me.  I  see  a  prisoner  wo  know  coming 
this  way,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling. 

''Wich,  sir?"   inquired  Mr.  Weller;  "the  gen'l'm'n 


254  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


vith  the  head  o'  hair,  or  the  interestin'  captive  in  the 
stockin's  ? 

''Neither,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''He  is  an  older 
friend  of  yours,  Sam." 

''O'  mine,  sir?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Waller. 

''You  recollect  the  gentleman  very  well,  I  dare  say, 
Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "or  else  you  are  more  un- 
mindful of  your  old  acquaintances  then  I  think  you  are. 
Hush  !  not  a  word,  Sam — not  a  syllable.  Here  he  is." 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  spoke,  Jingle  walked  up.  He  looked 
less  miserable  than  before,  being  clad  in  a  half-brown 
suit  of  clothes,  which,  with  Mr.  Pickwick's  assistance, 
had^been  released  from  the  pawnbroker's.  He  wore 
clean  linen  too,  and  had  his  hair  cut.  He  was  very  pale 
and  thin,  however;  and  as  he  crept  slowly  up,  leaning 
on  a  stick,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  had  suffered 
severely  from  illness  and  want,  and  was  still  very 
weak.  He  took  off  his  hat,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  saluted  him, 
and  seemed  much  humbled  and  abashed  at  sight  of  Sam 
Weller. 

Following  close  at  his  heels  came  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  in 
the  catalogue  of  ^  whose  vices  want  of  faith  and  attach- 
ment to  his  companion  could,  at  all  events,  find  no 
place.  He  was  still  ragged  and  squalid,  but  his  face 
was  not  quite  so  hollow  as  on  his  first  meeting  with  Mr. 
Pickwick,  a  few  days  before.  As  he  took  off  his  hat  to 
our  benevolent  old  friend,  he  murmured  some  broken 
expressions  of  gratitude,  and  muttered  something  about 
having  been  saved  from  starving. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  impatiently  inter- 
rupting him,  "you  can  follow  with  Sam.  I  want  to 
speak  to  you,  Mr.  Jingle.  Can  you  walk  without  his 
arm  ?  " 

"Certainly,  sir — all  ready — riot  too  fast — legs  shaky — 
head  queer — round  and  round — earthquaky  sort  of  feel- 
ing— very." 

"  Here,  give  me  your  arm,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"No,  no,"  replied  Jingle;  "won't,  indeed  —  rather 
not." 

" Nonsense,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "lean  upon  me,  I 
desire,  sir." 

Seeing  that  he  was  confused  and  agitated,  and  uncer- 
tain what  to  do,  Mr.  Pickwick  cut  the  matter  short  by 
drawing  the  invalided  stroller's  arm  through  his,  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


255 


leading  him  away,  without  saying  another  word 
about  it. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  the- countenance  of  Mr, 
Samuel  Weller  had  exhibited  an  expression  of  the  most 
overwhelming  and  absorbing  astonishment  that  the 
imagination  can  portray.  After  looking  from  Job  to 
Jingle,  and  from  Jingle  to  J ob,  in  profound  silence,  iie 
softly  ejaculated  the  words,  '^Well,  I  am  damn'd!" 
which  he  repeated  at  least  a  score  of  times:  after  which 
exertion  he  appeared  wholly  bereft  of  speech,  and  again 
cast  his  eyes,  first  upon  the  one  and  then  upon  the 
other,  in  mute  perplexity  and  bewilderment. 

"  Now,  Sam,"  said  Mr  Pickwick,  looking  back. 

"  I'm  a  comin',  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  mechanically 
following  his  master;  and  still  he  lifted  not  his  eyes 
from  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  who  walked  at  his  side  in  silence. 

Job  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  for  some  time. 
Sam,  with  his  glued  to  Job's  countenance,  ran  up  against 
the  people  who  were  walking  about,  and  fell  over  little 
children,  and  stumbled  against  steps  and  railings,  with- 
out appearing  at  all  sensible  of  it,  until  Job,  looking 
stealthily  up,  said: 

^^How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller?" 

*'It  is  him  !  "  exclaimed  Sam;  and  having  established 
Job's  identity  beyond  all  doubt,  he  smote  his  leg,  and 
vented  his  feelings  in  a  long  shrill  whistle. 
Things  has  alteredwith  me,  sir,"  said  Job. 
I  should  think  they  had,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  sur- 
veying his  companion's  rags  with  undisguised  wonder, 
''This  is  rayther  a  change  for  the  worse,  Mr,  Trotter, 
as  the  gen'l'm'n  said  wen  he  got  two  doubtful  shiliin's 
and  sixpenn'ortho' pocket-pieces  for  a  good  half-crown," 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  replied  Job,  shaking  his  head,  "  There 
is  no  deception  now,  Mr.  Weller.  Tears,"  said  Job,  with 
a  look  of  momentary  slyness — ''tears  are  not  the  only 
proofs  of  distress,  nor  the  best  ones." 

'*  No,  they  ain't,"  replied  Sam,  expressively. 

''They  may  be  put  on,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  job. 

"  I  know  they  may,"  said  Sam;  "  some  people,  indeed, 
has  'em  always  ready  laid  on,  and  ca,n  pull  out  the  plug 
wenever  tliey  likes." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Job;  "but  these  sort  of  things  are  not 
so  easily  counterfeited,  Mr.  Weller,  and  it  is  a  more 
painful  process  to  get  tlieai  up."  As  he  spoke  lie  pointed 


256 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


to  his  sallow  sunken  cheeks,  and,  drawing  up  his  coat 
sleeve,  disclosed  an  arm  which  looked  as  if  the  bone 
could  be  broken  at  a  touch:  so  sharp  and  brittle  did  it 
appear,  beneath  its  thin  covering  of  flesh. 

''Wot  have  you  been  doin' to  yourself?"  said  Sam, 
recoiling. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Job. 

''NothinM"  echoed  Sam. 

''I  have  been  doin' nothing  for  many  weeks  past," 
said  Job;  "  and  eating  and  drinking  almost  as  little." 

Sam  took  one  comprehensive  glance  at  Mr.  Trotter's 
thin  face  and  wretched,  apparel,  and  then,  seizing  him 
by  the  arm,  commenced  dragging  him  av/ay  with  great 
violence. 

''Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Weller?"  said  Job,  vainly 
struggling  in  the  powerful  grasp  of  his  old  enemy. 

"Come  on,"  said  Sam;  "come  on!"  He  deigned  no 
further  explanation  until  they  reached  the  tap;  and  then 
called  for  a  pot  of  porter,  v/hich  was  speedily  produced. 

"Isrov>^,"  said  Sam,  "drink  that  up,  ev'ry  drop  on  it; 
and  then  turn  the  pot  upside  down,  to  let  me  see  as  you 
took  the  med'cine." 

"But,  my  dear  Mr.  Weller,"  remonstrated  Job. 

"Down  vith  it,"  said  Sam,  peremptorily. 

Thus  admonished,  Mr.  Trotter  raised  the  pot  to  his 
lips,  and,  by  gentle  and  almost  imperceptible  degrees, 
tilted  it  into  the  air.  He  paused  once,  and  only  once, 
to  draw  a  long  breath,  but  without  raising  his  face  from 
the  vessel,  which,  in  a  few  moments  thereafter,  he  held 
out  at  arm's  length,  bottom  upwards.  Nothing  fell  upon 
the  ground  but  a  few  particles  of  froth,  which  slowly 
detached  themselves  from  the  rim,  and  trickled  lazily 
down. 

"Well  done,"  said  Sam.  "How  do  you  find  yourself 
arter  it?" 

"  Better,  sir.    I  think  I  am  better,"  responded  Job. 

"  O'  course  you  air,"  said  Sam,  argumentatively.  "  It's 
like  puttin'  gas  in  a  balloon;  I  can  see  vith  the  naked 
eye  that  you  gets  stouter  under  the  operation.  Wot  do 
you  say  to  another  o'  the  same  di-mensions?" 

"  I  would  rather  not,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  sir," 
replied  Job — "much  rather  not." 

"Veil,  then,  wot  do  you  say  to  some  wittles?"  inquired 
Sam, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


2o7 


Thanks  to  your  worthy  governor,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Trotter,  ''we  have  half  a  leg  of  mutton,  baked,  at  a 
quarter  before  three,  with  the  potatoes  under  it,  to  save 
boiling." 

' '  Wot  I  Has  he  been  a  purwidin'  for  you  ?"  asked  Sam, 
( -nphatically. 

'*IIe  has,  sir,"  replied  Job.  ''More  than  that^  Mr. 
"Yeller;  my  master  being  very  ill,  he  got  us  a  room — we 
vv^ere  in  a  kennel  before — and  paid  for  it,  sir;  and  came 
to  look  at  us,  at  night,  when  nobody  should  know.  Mr. 
Weller,"  said  Job,  with  real  tears  in  his  eyes,  for  once, 
"  I  could  serve  tha^t  gentleman  till  I  fell  down  dead  at 
his  feet." 

"  I  sav,"  said  Sam,  "  I'll  trouble  you,  my  friend — none 
o'  that!" 
Job  Trotter  looked  amazed. 

"iSTone  o'  that,  I  say,  young  feller,"  repeated  Sam, 
firmly.  "  ITo  man  serves  him  but  me.  And  now  we're 
upon^it,  I'll  let  you  into  another  secret  besides  that," 
said  Sam,  as  he  paid  for  the  beer.  "  I  never  heerd,  mind 
you,  nor  read  of  in  story  books,  nor  see  in  picters,  any 
angel  in  tights  and  gaiters — not  even  in  spectacles,  as 
I  remember,  though  that  may  ha'  been  done  for  any- 
thin'  I  know  to  the  contrairey — but  mark  my  vords,  Job 
Trotter,  he's  a  regular  thorough-bred  angel  for  all  that; 
and  let  me  see  the  man  as  v/enturs  to  tell  me  he  knows 
a  better  vun."  With  this  defiance  Mr.  Weller  buttoned 
up  his  change  in  a  side  pocket;  and,  with  many  con- 
firmatory nods  and  gestures  by  the  way,  proceeded  in 
search  of  the  subject  of  discourse. 

They  found  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  company  with  Jingle, 
talking  very  earnestly,  and  not  bestowing  a  look  on  the 
groups  who  were  congregated  on  the  racket  ground; 
they  were  very  motley  groups  too,  and  well  worth  the 
looking  at,  if  it  were  only  in  idle  curiosity. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Sam  and  his  companion 
drew  nijh,  "you  will  see  how  your  health  becomes, 
and  think  about  it  meanwhile.  Make  the  statement 
out  for  me  when  you  feel  yourself  equal  to  the  task,  and 
I  will  discuss  the  subject  with  you  when  I  have  consid- 
ered it.  Now,  go  to  your  room.  You  are  tired,  and  not 
strong  enough  to  be  out  long." 

Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  without  one  spark  of  his  old  ani- 
mation— with  nothing  even  of  the  dismal  gaiety  which 


258 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ho  had  assumed  when  Mr.  Pickwick  first  stumbled  on 
him  in  his  misery — bowed  low  without  speaking,  and 
motioning  to  Job  not  to  follow  him  just  yet,  crept  slowly 
away. 

Curious  scene  this,  is  it  not,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
looking  good-humouredly  round. 

''Worry  much  so,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  ''Wonders 'uU 
never  cease/'  added  Sam,  speaking  to  himself.  "Pm 
worry  much  mistaken  if  that  'ere  Jingle  worn't  a  doin' 
somethin'  in  the  water-cart  way!" 

The  area  formed  by  the  wall  in  that  part  of  the  Fleet 
in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  stood  was  just  wide  enough  to 
make  a  good  racket  court:  one  side  being  formed,  of 
course,  by  the  wall  itself,  and  the  other  by  that  portion 
of  the  prison  which  looked  (or  rather  would  have  looked, 
but  for  the  wall)  towards  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  Saun- 
tering or  sitting  about,  in  every  possible  attitude  of 
listless  idleness,  wore  a  great  number  of  debtors,  the 
major  part  of  whom  were  waiting  in  prison  until  their 
day  of  "going  up  "before  the  Insolvent  Court  should 
arrive,  while  others  had  boon  remanded  for  various 
terms,  which  they  wore  idling  away,  as  they  best  could. 
Some  were  shabby,  some  wore  smart,  many  dirty,  a  few 
clean;  but  there  they  all  lounged,  and  loitered,  and  slunk 
about,  with  as  little  spirit *or  purpose  as  the  beasts  in  a 
menagerie. 

Lolling  from  the  windows  which  commanded  a  view 
of  this  promenade,  were  a  number  of  persons,  some  in 
noisy  conversation  with  their  acquaintance  below,  others 
playing  at  ball  with  some  adventurous  throwers  outside; 
and  others  looking  on  at  the  racket-players,  or  watching 
the  boys  as  they  cried  the  game.  Dirty  slip-shod  women 
passed  and  repassed,  on  their  way  to  the  cooking-house 
in  one  corner  of  the  yard;  children  screamed  and  fought 
and  played  together,  in  another;  the  tumbling  gf  the 
skittles,  and  the  shouts  of  the  players,  mingled  perpeti^- 
ally  with  these  and  a  hundred  other  sounds,  and  all  was 
noise  and  tumult — save  in  a  little  miserable  shed  a  few 
yards  off  where  there  lay,  all  quiet  and  ghastly,  the 
body  of  the  Chancery  prisoner  who  had  died  the  night 
before,  awaiting  the  mocke^iy  of  an  inquest.  The  body! 
It  is  the  lawyer's  term  for  the  restless,  whirling  mass  of 
cares  and  anxieties,  affections,  hopes,  and  griefs,  that 
make  up  the  living  man.    The  law  had  his  body;  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


259 


there  it  lay,  clotlied  in  grave  clothes,  an  awful  witness 
to  its  tender  mercy. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  a  whistling-shon,  sir?"  inquired 
Job  Trotter. 

''What  do  you  mean  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  counter 
inquiry. 

''A  vistlin'-shop,  sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller. 
''What  is  that,  Sam?    A  bird-fanciers?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Bless  your  heart,  no,  sir,"  replied  Job;  "a  whistling- 
shop,  sir,  is  where  they  sell  spirits."  Mr.  Job  Trotter 
briefly  explained  here  that,  all  persons  being  prohibited 
under  heavy  penalties  from  conveying  spirits  into 
debtors'  prisons:  and  such  commodities  being  highly 
])rizedbythe  ladies  and  gentlemen  confined  therein: 
it  had  occurred  to  some  speculative  turnkey  to  connive, 
for  certain  lucrative  considerations,  at  two  or  three 
prisoners  retailing  the  favourite  article  of  gin,  for  their 
own  profit  and  advantage. 

"  This  plan  you  see,  sir,  has  been  gradually  introduced 
into  all  the  prisons  for  debt,"  said  Mr.  Trotter. 

"  And  it  has  this  worry  great  advantage,"  said  Sam, 
' '  that  the  turnkeys  takes  worry  good  care  to  seize  hold 
()'  ev'rybody  but  them  as  pays  'em,  that  atteinpts  the 
willainy,  and  wen  it  gets  in  the  papers  they're  applauded 
for  their  wigilance;  so  it  cuts  tv/o  ways — frightens 
other  people  from  the  trade,  and  elewates  their  own 
cliaracters." 

"Exactly  so,  Mr.  Weller,"  observed  Job. 

"  Well,  but  are  these  rooms  never  searched,  to  ascer- 
tain whether  any  spirits  are  concealed  in  them?"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Cert'nly  they  are,  sir,"  replied  Sam;  "but  the  tui'ii- 
k(»ys  knows  beforehand,  and  gives  the  word  to  the 
vistlers,  and  you  may  vistle  for  it  wen  you  go  to  look." 

By  this  time  Job  had  tapped  at  a  door,  which  was 
opened  by  a  gentleman  with  an  uncombed  head,  wlio 
I  bolted  it  after  them  when  they  had  walked  in,  and 
griun^^I;  upon  which  Job  grinned,  and  Sam  also:  wliere- 
uy)on  Mr.  Pickwick,  thinking  it  might  be  expected  of 
liim,  kept  on  smiling  to  the  end  of  th(i  interview. 

The  gentleman  with  tlie  uncombed  head  appeared 
quit(3  satisfied  witli  this  mute  announcement  of  tbeir 
business;  and  producing  a  flat  stone  bottle,  wliich  might 


2G0 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


hold  about  a  couple  of  quarts,  from  beneath  his  bedstead, 
filled  out  three  glasses  of  gin,  which  Job  Trotter  and 
Sam  disposed  of  in  a  most  workmanlike  manner. 

"  Any  more?"  said  the  whistling  gentleman. 

"  No  more,"  replied  Job  Trotter. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paid,  the  door  was  unbolted,  and  out 
they  came :  the  uncombed  gentleman  bestowing  a  friendly 
nod  upon  Mr.  Roker,  who  happened  to  be  passing  at  the 
moment. 

From  this  spot,  Mr.  Pickwick  wandered  along  all  the 
galleries,  up  and  down  all  the  staircases,  and  once  again 
round  the  whole  area  of  the  yard.  The  great  body  of 
the  prison  population  appeared  to  be  Mivins,  ajid 
Smangle,  and  the  parson,  and  the  butcher,  and  the  leg, 
over  and  over,  and  over  again.  There  were  the  same 
squalor,  the  same  turmoil  and  noise,  the  same  general 
characteristics,  in  every  corner;  in  the  best  and  the  worst 
alike.  The  whole  place  seemed  restless  and  troubled; 
and  the  people  were  crowding  and  flitting  to  and  fro, 
like  the  shadows  in  an  uneasy  dream. 

"  I  have  seen  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  threw 
himself  into  a  chair  in  his  little  apartment.  My  head 
aches  with  these  scenes,  and  my  heart  too.  Henceforth 
I  will  be  a  prisoner  in  my  own  room." 

And  Mr.  Pickwick  steadfastly  adhered  to  this  determi- 
nation. For  three  long  months  he  remained  shut  up,  all 
day;  only  stealing  out,  at  night,  to  breathe  the  air,  when 
the  greater  part  of  his  fellov/  prisoners  were  in  bed  or 
carousing  in  their  rooms.  His  health  was  evidently  be- 
ginning to  suffer  from  the  closeness  of  his  confinement; 
but  neither  the  often  repeated  entreaties  of  Mr.  Perker 
and  his  friends,  nor  the  still  more  frequently  repeated 
warnings  and  admonitions  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  could 
induce  him  to  alter  one  jot  of  his  inflexible  resolution. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

RECORDS  A  TOUCHING  ACT  OF  DELICATE  FEELING,  NOT  UN- 
MIXED WITH  PLEASANTRY,  ACHIEVED  AND  PERFORMED 
BY  MESSRS.  DODSON  AND  FOGG. 

It  was  within  a  week  of  the  close  of  the  month  of  July, 
that  a  hackney  cabriolet,  number  unrecorded,  was  seen  to 
proceed  at  a  rapid  pace' up  Goswell  Street;  three  people 
were  squeezed  into  it  besides  the  driver,  who  sat,  of 
course,  in  his  own  particular  little  dickey  at  the  side; 
over  the  apron  were  hung  two  shawls,  belonging  to  all 
appearance  to  two  small  vixenish-looking  ladies  under 
the  apron;  between  whom,  compressed  into  a  very  small 
compass,  there  was  stowed  away  a  gentleman  of  heavy 
and  subdued  demeanour,  who,  whenever  he  venture(|to 
make  an  observation,  was  snapped  up  short  by  one  of 
the  vixenish  ladies  before  mentioned.  Lastly,  the  two 
vixenish  ladies  and  the  heavy  gentleman  Vv^ere  giving 
the  driver  contradictory  directions,  all  tending  to  the 
one  point,  that  he  should  stop  at  Mrs.  Bardell's  door, 
which  the  heavy  gentleman,  in  direct  opposition  to,  and 
defiance  of,  the  vixenish  ladies,  contended  was  a  green 
door  and  not  a  yellow  one. 

Stop  at  the  house  with  the  green  d6or,  driver,"  said 
the  heavy  gentleman. 

''Oh I  you  perwerse  creetur!"  exclaimed  one  of  the 
vixenish  ladies.  ''Drive  to  the  ouse  with  the  yellow 
door,  cabmin." 

Upon  this,  the  cabman,  who,  in  a  sudden  effort  to  pull 
up  at  the  house  with  the  green  door,  had  pulled  the  horse 
up  so  high,  that  he  nearly  pulled  him  backwards  into 
the  cabriolet,  let  the  animal's  fore  legs  down  to  the 
ground  again,  and  paused. 

"Nowvere  am  I  to  pull  up?"  inquired  the  driver. 
"  Settle  it  among  yourselves.    All  I  ask  is,  vere?" 

Here  the  contest  v/as  renewed  with  increased  violence; 
and  the  horse  being  troubled  with  a  fly  on  his  nose,  the 
cabman  humanely  emi)loyed  his  leisure  in  lashing  him 
about  the  head,  on  the  counter-irritation  princi])le. 

"  Most  wotes  carries  the  day,"  said  one  of  the  vixenish 


202  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ladies,  at  length.  ''The  ouse  with  the  yellow  door,  cab- 
min." 

But  after  the  cabriolet  had  dashed  up,  in  splendid 
style,  to  the  house  with  the  yellow  door:  ''making,"  as 
one  of  the  vixenish  ladies  triumphantly  said,  "acter- 
rally  more  noise  than  if  one  had  come  in  one's  own  car- 
riage " — and  after  the  driver  had  dismounted  to  assist 
the  ladies  in  getting  out,  the  small  round  head  of  Master 
Thomas  Bardell  was  thrust  out  of  the  one  pair  window  of 
a  house  with  a  red  door,  a  few  numbers  off. 

"Aggrawatin'  thing,"  said  the  vixenish  lady  last  men- 
tioned, darting  a  withering  glance  at  the  heavy  gentle- 
man. 

"  My  dear,  it's  not  my  fault,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"Don't  talk  to  me,  you  creetur,  don't,"  retorted  the  lady. 
"The  house  with  the  red  door,  cabmin.  Oh  !  if  ever  a 
woman  was  troubled  with  a  rufiinly  creetur,  that  takes 
a  pride  and  pleasure  in  disgracing  his  wife  on  every  pos- 
sible occasion  afore  strangers,  I  am  that  woman." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Raddle,"  said 
the  other  little  woman,  who  was  no  other  than  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

"  What  have  I  been  a  doing  of  ?"  asked  Mr.  Raddle. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  don't,  you  brute,  for  fear  I  should 
be  prowoked  to  forgit  my  sect  and  strike  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Raddle. 

While  this  dialogue  was  going  on,  the  driver  was  most 
ignominiously  leading  the  horse,  by  the  bridle,  up  to  the 
house  with  the  red  door,  which  Master  Bardell  had 
already  opened.  Here  was  a  mean  and  low  way  of  ar- 
riving at  a  friend's  house  !  'No  dashing  up,  with  all  the 
fire  and  fury  of  the  animal  ;  no  jumping  down  of  the 
driver  ;  no  loud  knocking  at  the  door  ;  no  opening  the 
apron  with  a  crash  at  the  very  last  moment,  for  fear  of  the 
ladies  sitting  in  a  draught ;  and  then  the  man  handing 
the  shawls  out,  afterwards,  as  if  he  were  a  private 
coachman  !  The  whole  edge  of  the  thing  had  been  taken, 
off — it  was  flatter  than  walking. 

"Well,  Tommy,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "how's  your 
poor  dear  mother? " 

"Oh,  she's  werry  v/ell,"  replied  Master  Bardell. 
"She's  in  the  front  parlour— all  ready;  I'm  ready  too,  I 
am."  Here  Master  Bardell  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  jumped  off  and  on  the  bottom  step  of  the  door. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  263 

Is  anybody  else  a  goiii',  Tommy?"  said  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins,  arranging  her  pelerine. 

Mrs.  Sanders  is  goin',  she  is/'  replied  Tommy.  Fm 
goin'  too,  I  am." 

Drat  the  boy/'  said  little  Mrs.  Cluppins.  He  thinks 
of  nobody  but  himself.    Here  Tommy,  dear." 

Well/'  said  Master  Bardell. 

Who  else  is  a  goin',  lovey?"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  in  an 
insinuating  manner. 

Oh  !  Mrs.  Rogers  is  a  goin',"  replied  Master  Bardell, 
opening  his  eyes  wide  as  he  delivered  the  intelligence. 

What !  The  lady  as  has  taken  the  lodgings  ! "  ejacu- 
lated Mrs.  Cluppins. 

Master  Bardell  put  his  hands  deeper  down  into  his 
pockets,  and  nodded  exactly  thirty-five  times,  to  imply 
that  it  was  the  lady  lodger,  and  no  other. 

Bless  us  ! "  said  Mrs.  Cluppins.  ''It's  quite  a  party." 

''Ah,  if  you  knew  what  was  in  the  cupboard,  you'd 
say  so,"  replied  Master  Bardell. 

"What  is  there.  Tommy  ?"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  coax- 
ingly.    "You'll  tell  7ne,  Tommy,  I  know." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  replied  Master  Bardell,  shaking  his 
head,  and  applying  himself  to  the  bottom  step  again. 

"  Drat  the  child  !"  muttered  Mrs.  Cluppins.  "  What 
a  prowokin'  little  wretch  it  is  !  Come,  Tommy,  tell  your 
dear  Cluppy." 

"Mother  said  I  wasn't  to,"  rejoined  Master  Bardell. 
"  I'm  a  goin'  to  have  some,  I  am."  Cheered  by  this  pros- 
pect, the  precocious  boy  applied  himself  to  his  infantile 
treadmill,  with  increased  vigour. 

The  above  examination  of  a  child  of  tender  years  took 
place  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Raddle  and  the  cab-driver 
were  having  an  altercation  concerning  the  fare:  which, 
terminating  at  this  point  in  favour  of  the  cabman,  Mrs. 
Raddle  came  up  tottering. 

"  Lauk,  Mary  Ann!  what's  the  matter?"  said  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

"It's  put  me  all  over  in  such  a  tremble,  Betsy,"  replied 
Mrs.  Raddle.  "Raddle  ain't  like  a  man;  he  leaves  every- 
think  to  me." 

This  was  scarcely  fair  upon  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Raddle, 
who  had  been  thrust  aside  by  his  good  lady  in  the  com- 
mencement of  the  dispute,  and  peremptorily  commanded 
to  hold  his  tongue.    He  had  no  opportunity  of  defending 


364  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


himself,  however,  for  Mrs.  Raddle  gave  unequivocal 
signs  of  fainting;  which,  being  perceived  from  the  par- 
lour window,  Mrs.  Bardell,  Mrs  Sanders,  the  lodger,  and 
the  lodger's  servant,  darted  precipitately  out,  and  con- 
veyed her  into  the  house  :  all  talking  at  the  same  time, 
and  giving  utterance  to  various  expressions  of  pity  and 
condolence,  as  if  she  were  one  of  the  most  suffering 
mortals  on  earth.  Being  conveyed  into  the  front  par- 
lour, she  was  there  deposited  on  a  sofa  ;  and  the  lady 
from  the  first  floor  running  up  to  the  first  floor,  returned 
with  a  bottle  of  sal  volatile,  which,  holding  Mrs.  Raddle 
tight  round  the  neck,  she  applied,  in  all  womanly  kind- 
ness and  pity,  to  her  nose,  until  that  lady,  with  many 
plunges  and  struggles,  was  fain  to  declare  herself  de- 
cidedly better. 

''Ah,  poor  thing!"  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  ''I  know  what 
her  feelin's  is  too  well." 

''Ah,  poor  thing!  so  do  I,"  said  Mrs.  Sanders;  and 
then  all  the  ladies  moaned  in  unison,  and  said  they  knew 
what  it  was,  and  they  pitied  her  from  their  hearts,  they 
did.  Even  the  lodger's  little  servant,  who  was  thirteen 
years  old,  and  three  feet  high,  murmured  her  sympathy. 

"  But  what's  been  the  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"Ah,  what  has  decomposed  you,  ma'am?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Rogers. 

"I  have  been  a  good  deal  flurried,"  replied  Mrs.  Raddle, 
in  a  reproachful  manner.  Thereupon  the  ladies  cast 
indignant  looks  at  Mr.  Raddle. 

"'  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  the  unhappy  gentleman, 
stepping  forward,  ''  when  we  alighted  at  this  door,  a 
dispute  arose  with  the  driver  of  the  cabrioily — "  A 
loud  scream  from  his  wife,  at  the  mention  of  this  word, 
rendered  all  further  explanation  inaudible. 

"  You'd  better  leave  us  to  bring  her  round,  Raddle," 
said  Mrs.  Ciuppins.  "  She'll  never  get  better  as  long  as 
you're  here." 

All  the  ladies  concurred  in  this  opinion;  so  Mr.  Raddle 
was  pushed  out  of  the  room,  and  requested  to  give  him- 
self an  airing  in  the  back  yard,  which  he  did  for  about 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  Mrs.  Bardell  announced  to 
him,  with  a  solemn  face,  that  he  might  come  in  now, 
but  that  he  must  be  very  careful  how  he  behaved 
towards  his  wife.  She  knew  that  he  didn't  mean  to  be 
unkind;  but  Ma^ry  Ann  was  very  far  from  strong,  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


265 


if  he  didn't  take  care,  he  might  lose  her  when  he  least 
expected  it,  which  would  be  a  very  dreadful  reflection  for 
him  afterwards:  and  so  on.  All  this  Mr.  Raddle  heard 
with  great  submission,  and  presently  returned  to  the  par- 
lour in  a  most  lamb-like  manner. 

'*  Why,  Mrs.   Rogers,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell, 
you've  never  been  introduced,  "I  declare  !    Mr.  Raddle, 
ma'am;  Mrs.  Cluppins,  ma'a.m;  Mrs.  Raddle,  ma'am," 

— ''V/hich  is  Mrs.  Cluppin's  sister,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Sanders. 

''Oh,  indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  graciously;  for  she 
was  the  lodger,  and  her  servant  was  in  waiting,  so  she 
was  more  gracious  than  intimate,  in  right  of  her  posi- 
tion.   ''Oh,  indeed  !" 

Mrs.  Raddle  smiled  sweetly,  Mr.  Raddle  bowed,  and 
Mrs.  Ciuppins  said  ''she  was  sure  she  was  happy  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  being  known  to  a  lady  which  she  had 
heerd  so  much  in  faviour  of  as  Mrs.  Rogers" — a  compli- 
ment which  the  last-named  lady  acknowledged  with 
graceful  condescension. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Raddle,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell;  "  I'm  sure  you 
ought  to  feel  very  much  honoured  at  you  and  Tommy 
being  the  only  gentleman  to  escort  so  many  ladies  all 
the  way  to  the  Spaniards  at  Hampstead.  Don't  you 
think  he  ought,  Mrs.  Rogers,  ma'am  ?" 

"Oh,  certainly,  ma'am,"  replied  Mrs.  Rogers;  after 
whom  all  the  other  ladies  responded,  "Oh,  certainly." 

"  Of  course  I  feel  it,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Raddle,  rubbing 
his  hands,  and  evincing  a  slight  tendency  to  brighten  up 
a  little.  "Indeed,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  said  as  we 
were  coming  along  in  the  cabrioily — " 

At  the  recapitulation  of  the  word  which  awakened  so 
many  painful  recol^octions,  Mrs.  Raddle  applied  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes  again,  and  uttered  a  half-sup- 
'pressed  scream;  so  that  Mrs.  Bardell  frowned  upon  Mr. 
Raddle,  to  intimate  that  he  had  better  not  say  anything 
more  ;  and  desired  Mrs.  Rogers's  servant,  with  an  air, 
to  "  put  the  wine  on." 

This  was  the  signal  for  displaying  the  hidden  treasures 
of  the  closet,  which  comprised  sundry  plates  of  oranges 
and  biscuits,  and  a  bottle  of  old  crusted  port — that  at 
one  and  nine — with  another  of  the  celebrated  East  India 
sherry  at  fourteen-pence,  which  were  all  produced  in 
honour  of  the  lodger,  and  afforded  unlimited  satisfac- 


266  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


tion  to  everybody.  After  great  consternation  had  been 
excited  in  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Cluppins,  by  an  attempt  on 
the  part  of  Tommy  to  recount  how  he  had  been  cross- 
examined  regarding  the  cupboard  then  in  action  (which 
was  fortunately  nipped  in  the  bud  by  his  imbing  half  a 
glass  of  the  old  crusted  ''the  wrong  w^ay/'  and  thereby 
endangering  his  life  for  some  seconds),  the  party  v/alked 
forth  in  quest  of  a  Hampstead  stage.  This  was  soon 
found  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  they  all  arrived  safely  in 
the  Spaniard's  Tea-gardens,  where  the  luckless  Mr. 
Raddle's  very  first  act  nearly  occasioned  his  good  lady 
a  relapse;  it  being  neither  more  nor  less  [.than  to  order 
tea  for  seven;  whereas  (as  the  ladies  one  and  all  re- 
marked), what  could  have  been  easier  than  for  Tommy 
to  have  drunk  out  of  anybody's  cup,  or  everybody's,  if 
that  was  all,  when  the  waiter  wasn't  looking:  which 
would  have  saved  one  head  of  tea,  and  the  tea  just  as 
good  ! 

However,  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  the  tea-tray 
came  with  seven  cups  and  saucers,  and  bread  and  butter 
on  the  same  scale.  Mrs.  Bardell  was  una^nimously 
voted  into  the  chair,  and  Mrs.  Rogers  being  stationed  on 
her  right  hand,  and  Mrs.  Raddle  on  her  left,  the  meal 
proceeded  with  great  merriment  and  success. 

"  How  sweet  the  country  is,  to  be  sure!"  sighed  Mrs. 
Rogers;     I  almost  wish  I  lived  in  it  always." 

Oh,  you  wouldn't  like  that,  ma'am,"  replied  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell, rather  hastily;  for  it  was  not  at  all  advisable,  with 
reference  to  the  lodgings,  to  encourage  such  notions; 

you  wouldn't  like  it,  ma'am." 

''Oh!  I  should  think  you  was  a  deal  too  lively  and 
sought-after  to  be  content  with  the  country,  ma'am," 
said  little  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"Perhaps  I  am,  ma'am.  Perhaps  I  am,"  sighed  the 
first-floor  lodger. 

"  For  lone  people  as  have  got  nobody  to  care  for  them 
or  take  care  of  them,  or  as  have  been  hurt  in  their  mind, 
or  that  kind  of  thing,"  observed  Mr.  Raddle,  plucking 
up  a  little  cheerfulness,  and  looking  round,  "the  coun- 
try is  all  very  well.  The  country  for  a  wounded  spirit, 
they  say." 

]Srow,^of  all  things  in  the  world  that  the  unfortunate 
man  could  have  said,  any  would  have  been  preferable 
to  this.    Of  course  Mrs.  Bardell  burst  into  tears  and  re- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


267 


quested  to  be  led  from  the  table  instantly;  upon  which 
the  affectionate  child  began  to  cry,  too,  most  dismally. 

"  Would  anybody  believe,  ma'am,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Raddle,  turning  fiercely  to  the  first-floor  lodger,  "  that  a 
woman  could  be  married  to  such  a  unmanly  creetur, 
which  can  tamper  with  a  woman's  feelings  as  he  does, 
every  hour  in  the  day,  ma'am?" 

My  dear,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Raddle,  I  didn't  mean 
anything,  my  dear." 

You  didn't  mean!"  repeated  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  great 
scorn  and  contempt.  Go  away.  I  can't  bear  the  sight 
on  you,  you  brute." 

''You  must  7iot  flurry  yourself,  Mary  Ann,  interposed 
Mrs.  Cluppins.  You  really  must  consider  yourself,  my 
dear,  which  you  never  do.  Now  go  away.  Raddle,  there's 
a  good  soul,  or  you'll  only  aggravate  her." 

''You  had  better  take  your  tea  by  yourself,  sir,  in- 
deed," said  Mrs.  Rogers,  again  applying  the  smelling- 
bottle. 

Mrs.  Sanders,  who,  according  to  her  custom,  was  very 
busy  with  the  bread  and  butter,  expressed  the  same 
opinion,  and  Mr.  Raddle  quietly  retired. 

After  this  there  was  a  great  hoisting  up  of  Master  Bar- 
dell,  who  was  rather  a  large  size  for  hugging,  into  his 
mother's  arms;  in  which  operation  he  got  his  boots  in 
the  tea-board,  and  occasioned  some  confusion  among 
the  cups  and  saucers.  But  that  description  of  fainting 
fits,  which  is  contagious  among  ladies,  seldom  lasts 
long;  so  when  he  had  been  well  kissed,  and  a  little  cried 
over,  Mrs.  Bardell  recovered,  set  him  down  again,  won- 
dered how  she  could  have  been  so  foolish,  and  poured 
out  some  more  tea. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  sound  of  approaching 
wheels  was  heard,  and  the  ladies,  looking  up,  saw  a 
hackney-coach  stop  at  the  garden  gate. 

"  More  companjM"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  It's  a  gentleman,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle. 

"Well,  if  it  ain't  Mr.  Jackson,  the  young  man  from 
Dodson  and  Fogg's!"  cried  Mrs.  Bardell.  "Why,  gra- 
cious! Surely  Mr.  Pickwick  can't  have  paid  the  dam- 
ages." 

"Or  hoffered  marriage!"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 
"Dear  me,  how  slow  the  gentleman  is,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Rogers.   "Why  doesn't  he  make  haste?" 

I 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


As  the  lady  spoke  these  words  Mr.  Jackson  turned 
from  the  coach:  where  he  had  been  addressing  some  ob- 
servations to  a  shabby  man  in  black  leggings,  who  had 
just  emerged  from  the  vehicle  with  a  thick  ash  stick  in 
ills  hand:  and  made  his  way  to  the  place  where  tlio 
ladies  were  seated;  winding  his  hair  round  the  brim  of 
his  hat  as  he  came  along. 

Is  anything  the  matter  ?  Has  anything  taken  place, 
Mr.  Jackson     said  Mrs.  Bardell,  eagerly. 

''NothiDg  whatever,  ma'am/'  leplied  Mr.  Jackson. 
"  How  de  do,  ladies  ?  I  have  to  ask  pardon,  ladies,  for 
intruding — but  the  law,  ladies — the  law."  With  this 
apology  Mr.  Jackson  smiled,  made  a  comprehensive 
bow,  and  gave  his  hair  another  wind.  Mrs.  Rogers 
whispered  Mrs.  Raddle  that  he  was  really  an  elegant 
young  man. 

I  called  in  Goswell  Street,"  resumed  Jackson,  and 
hearing  that  you  were  here,  from  the  slavey,  took  a 
coach  and  came  on.  Our  people  want  you  down  in  the 
city  directly,  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Lor  !"  ejaculated  that  lady,  starting  at  the  sudden 
nature  of  the  communication. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jackson,  biting  his  lip.  ''It's  very  im- 
portant and  pressing  business,  which  can't  be  postponed 
on  any  account.  Indeed,  Dodson  expressly  said  so  to 
me,  and  so  did  Fogg.  I've  kept  the  coach  on  purpose 
for  you  to  go  back  in." 

"  How  very  strange  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell. 

The  ladies  agreed  that  it  ivas  very  strange,  but  were 
unanimously  of  opinion  that  it  must  be  very  important, 
or  Dodson  and  Fogg  would  never  have  sent;  and  further, 
that  the  business  being  urgent,  she  ought  to  repair  to 
Dodson  and  Fogg's  without  any  delay. 

There  was  a  certain  degree  of  pride  and  importance 
about  being  wanted  by  one's  lawyers  in  such  a  mon- 
strous hurry,  that  was  by  no  means  displeasing  to  Mrs. 
Bardell,  especially  as  it  might  be  reasonably  supposed 
to  enhance  her  consequence  in  the  eyes  of  the  first-floor 
lodger.  She  simpered  a  little,  affected  extreme  vexation 
and  hesitation,  and  at  last  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
she  supposed  she  must  go. 

But  won't  you  refresh  yourself  after  your  walk,  Mr. 
Jackson  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  persuasively. 

Why,  really  there  ain't  much  time  to  lose,"  replied 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


Jackson;  ^^and  Tve  got  a  friend  here,"  he  continued, 
looking  towards  the  man  with  the  ash  stick. 

"^Oh,  ask  your  friend  to  come  here,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Bardell.      Pray  ask  your  friend  here,  sir." 

^^Why,  thankee,  I'd  rather  not,"  said  Mr.  Jackson, 
with  some  embarrassment  of  manner.  "  He's  not  much 
used  to  ladies'  society,  and  it  makes  him  bashful.  If 
you'll  order  the  waiter  to  deliver  him  anything  short,  he 
won't  drink  it  off  at  once,  won't  he  ! — only  try  him  ! " 
Mr.  Jackson's  fingers  wandered  playfully  round  his 
nose,  at  this  portion  of  his  discourse,  to  warn  his  hearers 
that  he  was  speaking  ironically. 

The  waiter  was  at  once  despatched  to  the  bashful  gen- 
tleman, and  the  bashful  gentleman  took  something;  Mr. 
Jackson  also  took  something,  and  the  ladies  took  some- 
thing, for  hospitality's  sake.  Mr.  Jackson  then  said 
that  he  was  afraid  it  was  time  to  go  ;  upon  which  Mrs.. 
Sanders,  Mrs.  Cluppins,  and  Tommy  (who  it  was  ar- 
ranged should  accompany  Mrs.  Bardell,  leaving  the 
others  to  Mr.  Raddle's  protection)  got  into  the  coach. 

Isaac,"  said  Jackson,  as  Mrs.  Bardell  prepared  to  get 
in,  looking  up  at  the  man  with  the  ash  stick,  who  was 
seated  on  the  box,  smoking  a  cigar. 
Well." 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Bardell." 

"  Oh,  I  knew  that,  long  ago,"  said  the  man. 

Mrs.  Bardell  got  in,  Mr.  Jackson  got  in  after  her,  and 
away  they  drove.  Mrs.  Bardell  could  not  help  ruminat- 
ing on  what  Mr.  Jackson's  friend  had  said.  Shrewd 
creatures,  those  lawyers  !  Lord  bless  us,  how  they  find 
people  out  ! 

"  Sad  thing  about  these  costs  of  our  people's,  ain't  it," 
said  Jackson,  after  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs.  Sanders  had 
fallen  asleep  ;  your  bill  of  costs,  I  mean  ?  " 

'Tm  very  sorry  they  can't  get  them,"  replied  Mi'S. 
Bardell.  But  if  you  law-gentlemen  do  these  things  on 
speculation,  why  you  must  get  a  loss  now  and  then,  you 
know." 

You  gave  them  a  cognovit  for  the  amount  of  your 
costs,  after  the  trial,  I'm  told,"  said  Jackson. 

''Yes.  Just  as  a  matter  of  form,"  replied  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell. 

'*  Certainly,"  replied  Jackson,  dril^.  "  Quite  a  matter 
of  form.  Quite," 


270  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

On  they  drove,  and  Mrs.  Bardell  fell  asleep.  She  was 
awakened,  after  some  time,  by  the  stopping  of  the  coach. 

Bless  us!"  said  the  lady,  ^'are  we  at  Freeman's 
Court  ? " 

We're  not  going  quite  so  far,"  replied  Jackson. 
"  Have  the  goodness  to  step  out." 

Mrs.  Bardell,  not  yet  thoroughly  awake,  complied. 
It  was  a  curious  place — a  large  wall,  with  a  gate  in  the 
middle,  and  a  gas-light  burning  inside. 

"  Now,  ladies,"  cried  the  man  with  the  ash  stick,  look- 
ing into  the  coach,  and  shaking  Mrs.  Sanders  to  wake 
her;  ^^come!"  Rousing  her  friend,  Mrs.  Sanders  alighted. 
Mrs.  Bardell,  leaning  on  Jackson's  arm,  and  leading 
Tommy  by  the  hand,  had  already  entered  the  porch. 
They  followed. 

The  room  they  turned  into  was  even  more  odd-look- 
ing than  the  porch.  Such  a  number  of  men  standing 
about!    And  they  stared  so! 

'^What  place  is  this?"  inquired  Mrs.  Bardell,  pausing. 

"  Only  one  of  our  public  offices,"  replied  Jackson, 
hurrying  her  through  a  door,  and  looking  round  to  see 
that  the  other  women  were  following.  ''Look  sharp, 
Isaac!" 

"  Safe  and  sound,"  replied  the  man  with  the  ash  stick. 
The  door  swung  heavily  after  them,  and  they  descended 
a  small  flight  of  steps. 

''Here  we  are,  at  last.  All  right  and  tight,  Mrs. 
Bardell!"  said  Jackson,  looking  exultingly  round. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  pal- 
pitating heart. 

"Just  this,"  replied  Jackson,  drawing  her  a  little  on 
one  side;  "don't  be  frightened,  Mrs.  Bardell.  There 
never  was  a  more  delicate  man  than  Dodson,  ma'am,  or 
a  more  humane  man  than  Fogg.  It  was  their  duty,  in 
the  way  of  business,  to  take  you  in  execution  for  them 
costs ;  but  they  were  anxious  to  spare  your  feelings  as 
much  as  they  could.  What  a  comfort  it  must  be,  to  you, 
to  think  how  it's  been  done!  This  is  the  Fleet,  ma'am. 
Wish  you  good  pight,  Mrs.  Bardell.  Good  night, 
Tommy!" 

As  Jackson  hurried  away  in  company  with  the  man 
with  the  ash  stick,  another  man,  with  a  key  in  his 
hand,  who  had  been  looking  on,  led  the  bewildered 
female  to  a  second  short  flight  of  stepS;^  leading  to 


MRS.  BAItDELL  ENCOUNTERS  MR.  PICKWICK  IN  THE  PRISON. 

Pickwick  PaptTH. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


271 


a  doorway.  Mrs.  Bardell  screamed  violently;  Tommy 
roared;  Mrs.  Cluppins  shrunk  within  herself;  and  Mrs. 
Sanders  made  off,  without  more  ado.  For  there  stood 
the  injured  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  his  nightly  allowance 
of  air;  and  beside  him  leant  Samuel  Weller,  who,  seeing 
Mrs.  Bardell,  took  his  hat  off,  with  mock  reverence, 
while  his  master  turned  indignantly  on  his  heel. 

"  Don't  bother  the  woman,"  said  the  turnkey  to  Weller; 
"  she's  just  come  in." 

''A  pris'ner!"  said  Sam,  quickly  replacing  his  hat. 
"  Who's  theplaintives?  What  for?  Speak  up,  old  feller." 

"  Dodson  and  Fogg,"  replied  the  man;  "  execution  on 
cognovit  of  costs." 

Here  Job,  Job!  "  shouted  Sam,  dashing  into  the  pas- 
sage, run  to  Mr.  Perker's^  Job;  J  want  him  directly.  I 
see  some  good  in  this.  Here's  a  game.  Hooray,  were's 
the  gov'nor! " 

But  there  was  no  reply  to  these  inquiries,  for  Job  had 
started  furiously  off,  the  instant  he  received  his  com- 
mission, and  Mrs.  Bardell  had  fainted,  in  real  dov/n- 
right  earnest. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IS  CHIEFLY  DEVOTED  TO  MATTERS  OF  BUSINESS,  AND  THE 
TEMPORAL  ADVANTAGE  OF  DODSON  AND  FOGG.  MR. 
WINKLE  REAPPEARS  UNDER  EXTRAORDINARY  CIRCUM- 
STANCES. MR.  PICKWICK'S  BENEVOLENCE  PROVES 
STRONGER  THAN  HIS  OBSTINACY. 

Job  Trotter,  abating  nothing  of  his  speed,  ran  up 
Holborn:  sometimes  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  some- 
times on  the  pavement,  and  sometimes  in  the  gutter,  as 
the  chances  of  getting  along  varied,  with  the  press  of 
men,  women,  children,  and  coaches,  in  each  division  of 
the  thoroughfare:  and,  regardless  of  all  obstacles, 
stopped  not  for  an  instant  until  he  reached  the  gate  of 
Gray's  Inn.  Notwithstanding  all  the  expedition  lie  had 
usea,  however,  the  gate  had  beerf  closed  a  good  half 
hour  when  he  reached  it,  and  by  the  time  he  had  dis- 
covered Mr.  Perker's  laundress,  who  lived  with  a  mar- 
ried daughter,  who  had  bestowed  her  hand  upon  a  non- 
resident waiter,  who  occupied  the  one  pair  of  some 


272  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

number,  in  some  street,  closely  adjoining  to  some  brew- 
ery, somewhere  behind  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  it  was  within 
fifteen  minutes  of  the  time  of  closing  the  prison  for  the 
night.  Mr.  Lowten  had  still  to  be  ferreted  out  from  the 
back  parlour  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump;  and  Job  had 
scarcely  accomplished  the  object,  and  communicated 
Sam  Weller's  message,  when  the  clock  struck  ten. 

There,"  said  Lowten,  it's  too  late  now.  You  can't 
get  in  to-night;  you've  got  the  key  of  the  street,  my 
friend?" 

Never  mind  me,"  replied  Job,  ^^I  can  sleep  any- 
where. But  won't  it  be  better  to  see  Mr.  Perker  to- 
night, so  that  we  may  be  there  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning?" 

''Why,"  represented  Lowton,  after  a  little  considera- 
tion, ''if  it  was  in  anybody  else*s  case,  Perker  wouldn't 
be  best  pleased  at  my  going  up  to  his  house;  but  as  it's 
Mr.  Pickwick's,  I  think  I  may  venture  to  take  a  cab  and 
charge  it  to  the  office."  Deciding  on  this  line  of  con- 
duct, Mr.  Lowten  took  up  his  hat,  and  begging  the  as- 
sembled company  to  appoint  a  deputy  chairman  during 
his  temporary  absence,  led  the  way  to  the  nearest 
coach-stand,  and  summoning  the  cab  of  most  promising 
appearance,  directed  the  driver  to  repair  to  Montague 
Place,  Russell  Square. 

Mr.  Perker  had  had  a  dinner  party  that  day,  as  was 
testified  by  the  appearance  of  lights  in  the  drawing- 
room  windows,  the  sound  of  an  improved  grand 
piano  and  an  improvable  cabinet  voice  issuing  there- 
from; and  a  rather  overpowering  smell  of  meat, 
v/hich  pervaded  the  steps  and  entry.  In  fact  a  couple 
of  very  good  country  agencies  happening  to  come 
up  to  town,  at  the  same  time,  an  agreeable  little 
party  had  been  got  together  to  meet  them:  comprising 
Mr.  Snicks,  the  Life  Office  Secretary,  Mr.  Prosee,  the 
eminent  counsel,  three  solicitors,  one  commissioner  of 
bankrupts,  a  special  pleader  from  the  Temple,  a  small- 
eyed,  peremptory  young  gentleman,  his  pupil,  who  had 
written  a  lively  boojc  about  the  law  of  demises,  with  a 
vast  quantity  of  marginal  notes  and  references;  and 
several  other  eminent  and  distinguished  personages. 
From  this  society  little  Mr.  Perker  detached  himself,  on 
his  clerk  being  announced  in  a  whisper;  and  repairing 
to  the  dining-room  there  found  Mr.  Lowten  and  Job 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  m 

Trotter,  looking  very  dim  and  shadowy  by  the  light  of  a 
kitchen  candle,  which  the  gentleman  who  condescended 
to  appear  in  plush  shorts  and  cottons,  for  a  quarterly 
stipend,  had,  with  a  becoming  contempt  for  the  clerk 
and  all  things  appertaining  to  ^^the  office,"  placed  upon 
the  table. 

''Now,  Lowten,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  shutting  the 
door,  ''  what's  the  matter?  No  important  letter  come  in 
a  parcel,  is  there?'' 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Lowten.  "  This  is  a  messenger 
from  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir." 

''From  Pickwick,  eh?"  said  the  little  man,  turning 
quickly  to  Job.    "  Well;  what  is  it?" 

"  Dodson  and  Fogg  have  taken  Mrs.  Bardell  in  execu- 
tion for  her  costs,  sir,"  said  Job. 

"No!"  exclaimed  Perker,  putting  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  reclining  against  the  sideboard. 

"  Yes,"  said  Job.  "  It  seems  they  got  a  cognovit  out 
of  her  for  the  amount  of  'em  directly  after  the  trial." 

*'  By  Jove!"  said  Perker,  taking  both  hands  out  of  his 
pockets  and  striking  the  knuckles  of  his  right  against 
the  palm  of  his  left,  emphatically,  "those  are  the 
cleverest  scamps  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with!" 

"The  sharpest  practitioners  I  ever  knew,  sir,"  ob- 
served Lowten. 

"  Sharp! "  echoed  Perker.  "There's  no  knowing  where 
to  have  them." 

"Very  true,  sir,  there  is  not,"  replied  Lowten;  and 
then  both  master  and  man  pondered  for  a  few  seconds, 
with  animated  countenances,  as  if  they  were  reflecting 
upon  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  ingenious  discoveries 
that  the  intellect  of  man  had  ever  made.  When  they 
liad  in  some  measure  recovered  from  their  trance  of  ad- 
miration, Job  Trotter  discharged  himself  of  the  rest  of 
his  commission.  Perker  nodded  his  head  thoughtfully, 
and  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"  At  ten  precisely,  I  will  be  there,"  said  the  little  man. 
"  Sam  is  quite  right.  Tell  him  so.  Will  you  take  a  glass 
of  wine,  Lowten?" 

"No,  thank  you,  sir." 

"  You  mean  yes,  I  think,"  said  the  little  man,  turning 
to  the  sideboard  for  a  decanter  and  glasses. 

As  Lowten  did  mean  yes,  he  said  no  more  on  the  sub- 
ject, but  inquired  of  Job,  in  an  audible  whisper^  whether 


274 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


the  portrait  of  Perker,  which  hung  opposite  the  fire- 
place, wasn't  a  wonderful  likeness:  to  which,  Job  of 
course  replied  that  it  was.  The  wine  being  by  this  time 
poured  out,  Lowten  drank  to  Mrs.  Perker  and  the 
children,  and  Job  to  Perker.  The  gentleman  in  the 
plush  shorts  and  cottons  considering  it  no  part  of  his 
duty  to  show  the  people  from  the  office  out,  consistently 
declined  to  answer  the  bell,  and  they  showed  themselves 
out.  The  attorney  betook  himself  to  his  drawing-room, 
the  clerk  to  the  Magpie  and  Stump,  and  Job  to  Covent 
Garden  Market  to  spend  the  night  in  a  vegetable  basket. 

Punctually  at  the  appointed  hour  next  morning,  the 
good-humoured  little  attorney  tapped  at  Mr.  Pickwick's 
door,  which  was  opened,  with  great  alacrity,  by  Sam 
Weller.. 

^'Mr.  Perker,  sir,"  said  Sam,  announcing  the  visitor 
to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  sitting  at  the  window  in  a 
thoughtful  attitude.  Worry  glad  you've  looked  in  ac- 
cidentally, sir.  I  rayther  think  the  gov'ner  wants  to 
have  a  vord  and  a  half  with  you,  sir." 

Perker  bestowed  a  look  of  intelligence  on  Sam,  in- 
timating that  he  understood  he  was  not  to  say  he  had 
been  sent  for:  and  beckoning  him  to  approach,  whispered 
briefly  in  his  ear. 

You  don't  mean  that  'ere,  sir?"  said  Sam,  starting 
back  in  excessive  surprise. 

Perker  nodded  and  smiled. 

Mr.  Samuel  Weller  looked  at  the  little  lawyer,  then  at 
Mr.  Pickwick,  then  at  the  ceiling,  then  at  Perker  again; 
grinned,  laughed  outright,  and  finally,  catching  up  his 
hat  from  the  carpet,  without  further  explanation,  dis- 
appeared. 

What  does  this  mean?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  look- 
ing at  Perker  with  astonishment.  "  What  has  put  Sam 
into  this  most  extraordinary  state?" 

Oh,  nothing,  nothing,"  replied  Perker.  Come,  my 
dear  sir,  draw  up  your  chair  to  the  table.  I  have  a  good 
deal  to  say  to  you." 

"  What  papers  are  those?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  as 
the  little  man  deposited  on  the  table  a  small  bundle  of 
documents  tied  with  red  tape. 

The  papers  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick,"  replied  Perker, 
undoing  the  knot  with  his  teeth. 
Mr,  Pickwick  grated  the  legs  of  his  chair  against  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


275 


ground;  and  throwing  himself  into  it,  folded  his  hands 
and  looked  sternly — if  Mr.  Pickwick  ever  could  look 
sternly — at  his  legal  friend. 

"  You  don't  like  to  hear  the  name  of  the  cause?"  said 
the  little  man,  still  busying  himself  with  the  knot. 
No,  I  do  not,  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Sorry  for  that,"  resumed  Perker,  ''because  it  will 
form  the  subject  of  our  conversation." 

"I  would  rather  that  the  subject  should  be  never 
mentioned  between  us,  Perker,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
hastily. 

"Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  unty- 
ing the  bundle,  and  glancing  eagerly  at  Mr.  Pickwick 
out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  "  It  must  be  mentioned. 
I  have  come  here  on  purpose.  Now,  are  you  ready  to 
hear  what  I  have  to  say,  my  dear  sir?  No  hurry;  if  you 
are  not,  I  can  wait.  I  have  this  morning's  paper  here. 
You're  time  shall  be  mine.  There!"  Hereupon,  the 
little  man  threw  one  leg  over  the  other  and  made  a  show 
of  beginning  to  read,  with  great  composure  and  appli- 
cation. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  sigh,  but 
softening  into  a  smile  at  the  same  time.  "  Say  what 
you  have  to  say;  it's  the  old  story,  I  suppose?  " 

"With  a  difference,  my  dear  sir;  with  a  difference," 
rejoined  Perker,  deliberately  folding  up  the  paper  and 
putting  it  into  his  pocket  again.  "Mrs.  Bardell,  the 
plaintiff  in  the  action,  is  within  these  walls,  sir." 

"  I  know  it,"  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  reply. 

"Very  good,"  retorted  Perker.  "And  you  know  how 
she  comes  here,  I  suppose;  I  mean  on  what  grounds,  and 
at  whose  suit?" 

"Yes;  at  least  I  have  heard  Sam's  account  of  the 
matter,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  affected  carelessness. 

"Sam's  account  of  the  matter,"  replied  Perker,  "is,  I 
will  venture  to  say,  a  perfectly  correct  one.  Well,  now, 
my  dear  sir,  the  first  q^uestion  I  have  to  ask  is,  whether 
this  woman  is  to  remam  here?" 

"To  remain  here!"  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  remain  here,  my  dear  sir,"  rejoined  Perker,  lean- 
ing back  in  his  chair  and  looking  steadily  at  his  client. 

"How  can  you  ask  me?"  said  that  gentleman.  "It 
rests  with  Dodson  and  Fogg;  you  know  that  very  well." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind,"  retorted  Perker,  firmly. 


276  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


It  does  not  rest  with  Dodson  and  Fogg;  you  know  the 
men,  my  dear  sir,  as  well  as  I  do.  It  rests  solely,  wholly 
and  entirely  with  you." 

''With  me!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  nervously 
from  his  chair,  and  reseating  himself  directly  afterwards. 

The  little  man  gave  a  double  knock  on  the  lid  of  his 
snuff-box,  opened  it,  took  a  great  pinch,  shut  it  up  again, 
and  repeated  the  words,  "  With  you." 

''I  say,  my  dear  sir,"  pursued  the  little  man,  who 
seemed  ±o  gather  confldence  from  the  snuff;  "1  say 
that  her  speedy  liberation  or  perpetual  imprisonment 
rests  with  you,  and  with  you  alone.  Hear  me  out,  my 
dear  sir,  if  you  please,  and  do  not  be  so  very  energetic,  for 
it  will  only  put  you  into  a  perspiration  and  do  no  good 
whatever.  I  say,"  continued  Perker,  checking  off  each 
position  on  a  different  finger,  as  he  laid  it  down;  ''I  say 
that  nobody  but  you  can  rescue  her  from  this  den  of 
wretchedness;  and  that  5^ou  can  only  do  that  by  paying 
the  costs  of  this  suit — both  of  plaintiff  and  defendant — 
into  the  hands  of  these  Freeman's  Court  sharks.  Now, 
pray  be  quiet,  my  dear  sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  face  had  been  undergoing  most 
surprising  changes  during  this  speech,  and  who  was 
evidently  on  the  verge  of  a  strong  burst  of  indignation, 
calmed  his  wrath  as  well  as  he  could.  Perker, 
strengthening  his  argumentative  powers  with  another 
pinch  of  snuff,  proceeded: 

''I  have  seen  the  woman  this  morning.  By  paying 
the  costs  you  can  obtain  a  full  release  and  discharge 
from  the  damages;  and  further — this  I  know  is  a  far 
greater  object  of  consideration  with  you,  my  dear  sir — a 
voluntary  statement,  under  her  hand,  in  the  form  of  a 
letter  to  me,  that  this  business  was,  from  the  very  first,  - 
fomented,  and  encouraged,  and  brought  about,  by  these 
men,  Dodson  and  Fogg;  that  she  deeply  regrets  ever 
having  been  the  instrument  of  annoyance  or  injury  to 
you;  and  that  she  entreats  me  to  intercede  with  you, 
and  implore  your  pardon." 

''If  I  pay  her  costs  for  her,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in- 
dignantly.   ''A  valuable  document  indeed." 

No  '  if  in  the  case,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Perker,  trium- 
phantly. "  There  is  the  very  letter  I  speak  of.  Brought 
to  my  office  by  another  woman  at  nine  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing, before  I  had  set  foot  in  this  place,  or  held  any  com- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


277 


munication  with  Mrs.  Bardell,  upon  my  honour.''  Se- 
lecting the  letter  from  the  bundle,  the  little  lawyer  laid 
it  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  elbow,  and  took  snuff  for  two  con- 
secutive minutes  without  winking. 

''Is  this  all  you  have  to  say  to  me?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  mildly. 

''Not  quite,"  replied  Perker.  '^ I  cannot  undertake 
to  say,  at  this  moment,  whether  the  wording  of  the  cog- 
novit, the  nature  of  the  ostensible  consideration,  and 
the  proof  we  can  get  together  about  the  whole  conduct  of 
the  suit,  will  be  sufficient  to  justify  an  indictment  for 
conspiracy.  I  fear  not,  my  dear  sir;  th^  are  too  clever 
for  that,  I  doubt.  I  do  mean  to  say,  however,  that  the 
whole  facts,  taken  together,  will  be  sulRcient  to  justify 
you,  in  the  minds  of  all  rea.sonable  men.  And  now,  my 
dear  sir,  I  put  it  to  you.  This  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds,  or  whatever  it  may  be — take  it  in  round  num- 
bers— is  nothing  to  you.  A  jury  has  decided  against 
you;  well,  their  verdict  is  wrong,  but  still  they  decided 
as  they  thought  right,  and  it  is  against  you.  You  have 
now  an  opportunity,  on  easy  terms,  of  placing  yourself 
in  a  much  higher  position  than  you  ever  could  by  remain- 
ing here;  which  would  only  be  imputed,  by  the  people 
who  didn't  know  you,  to  sheer,  dogged,  wrong-headed, 
brutal  obstinacy:  nothing  else,  my  clear  sir,  believe  me. 
Can  you  hesitate  to  avail  yourself  of  it,  when  it  restores 
you  to  your  friends,  your  old  pursuits,  your  health  and 
amusements;  when  it  liberates-  your  faithful  and  at- 
tached Servian t,  whom  you  otherwise  doom  to  imprison- 
ment for  the  whole  of  your  life?  and  above  all,  when  it 
enables  you  to  take  the  very  magnanimous  revenge — 
which  I  know,  my  dear  sir,  is  one  after  your  own  heart — 
of  releasing  this  woman  from  a  scene  of  misery  and  de- 
bauchery, to  which  no  man  should  ever  be  consigned  if 
I  had  my  will,  but  the  infliction  of  which,  on  any  woman, 
is  perhaps  even  more  frightful  and  barbarous. 
Now  I  ask  you,  my  dear  sir,  not  only  as  your  legal  ad- 
viser, but  as  your  very  true  friend,  will  you  let  slip  the 
occasion  of  attaining  all  tli^t'se  objects,  and  doing  all  tliis 
good,  for  the  paltry  consideration  of  a  few  pounds  find- 
ing their  way  into  the  pockets  of  a  couple  of  rascals,  to 
whom  it  makes  no  manner  of  difference,  except  that  the 
more  they  gain,  the  more  they'll  seek,  and  so  the  sooner 
be  led  into  some  piece  of  knavery  that  must  end  in  aj 


2^^^  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  Ol^ 


crash?  I  have  put  these  considerations  to  you,  my 
dear  sir,  very  feebly  and  imperfectly,  but  I  ask  you 
to  think  of  them — turn  them  over  in  your  mind  as  long 
as  you  please:  I  wait  here  most  patiently  for  your 
answer." 

Before  Mr.  Pickwick  could  reply;  before  Mr.  Perker 
had  taken  one-twentieth  part  of  the  snuff  with  which  so 
unusually  long  an  address  imperatively  required  to  be 
followed  up;  there  was  a  low  murmuring  of  voices  out- 
side, and  then  a  hesitating  knock  at  the  door. 

^^Dear,  dear,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been 
evidently  roused  by  his  friend's  appeal;  ''what  an  an- 
noyance that  door  is!   Who  is  that?" 

''Me,  sir,"  replied  Sam  Weller,  putting  in  his  head. 
I  can't  speak  to  you  just  now,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick.   "  I  am  engaged  at  this  moment,  Sam." 

''Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  "But 
here's  a  lady  here,  sir,  as  says  she's  somethin'  worry 
partickler  to  disclose." 

"I  can't  see  any  lady,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose 
mind  was  filled  with  visions  of  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"I  vouldn't  make  too  sure  o' that,  sir,"  urged  Mr. 
Weller,  shaking  his  head.  "  If  you  know'd  who  was 
near,  sir,  I  rayther  think  you'd  change  your  note;  as  the 
hawk  remarked  to  himself,  with  a  cheerful  laugh,  ven 
he  heerd  the  robin  redbreast  a  singin'  round  the 
corner." 

"Who  is  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Will  you  see  her,  sir?  "  asked  Mr.  Weller,  holding  the 
door  in  his  hand,  as  if  he  had  some  curious  live  animal 
on  the  other  side. 

"I  suppose  I  must,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at 
Perker. 

"Well,  then,  all  in  to  begin!"  cried  Sam.  "Sound 
the  gong,  draw  up  the  curtain,  and  enter  the  two  con- 
spirators." 

As  Sam  Weller  spoke,  he  threw  the  door  open,  and 
there  rushed  tumultuously  into  the  room,  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Winkle:  leading  after  him,  by  the  hand,  the  identical 
young  lady  who,  at  Dingley  Dell,  had  worn  the  boots 
with  the  fur  round  the  tops;  and  who,  now  a  very 
pleasing  compound  of  blushes  and  confusion,  and  lilac 
silk,  and  a  smart  bonnet,  and  a  rich  lace  veil,  looked 
prettier  than  ever. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLITB. 


''Miss  Arabella  Allen!''  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  ris- 
ing from  his  chair. 

''No/'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  dropping  on  his  knees, 
"Mrs.  Winkle.    Pardon,  my  dear  friend,  pardon!" 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of 
his  own  senses,  and  perhaps  would  not  have  done  so, 
but  for  the  corroborative  testimony  afforded  by  the 
smiling  countenance  of  Perker,  and  the  bodily  presence, 
in  the  background,  of  Sam  and  the  pretty  housemaid: 
who  appeared  to  contemplate  the  proceedings  with  the 
liveliest  satisfaction. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Arabella,  in  a  low  voice,  as 
if  alarmed  at  the  silence,  "can  you  forgive  my  impru- 
dence? " 

Mr.  Pickwick  returned  no  verbal  response  to  this  ap- 
peal; but  he  took  off  his  spectacles  in  great  haste,  and 
seizing  both  the  young  lady's  hands  in  his,  kissed  her  a 
great  number  of  times — perhaps  a  greater  number  than 
was  absolutely  necessary — and  then,  still  retaining  one 
of  her  hands,  told  Mr.  Winkle  he  was  an  audacious 
young  dog,  and  bade  him  get  up;  which  Mr.  Winkle, 
who  had  been,  for  some  seconds,  scratching  his  nose 
with  the  brim  of  his  hat,  in  a  penitent  manner,  did; 
whereupon  Mr.  Pickwick  slapped  him  on  the  back  several 
times,  and  then  shook  hands  heartily  with  Perker,  who, 
not  to  be  behind-hand  with  the  compliments  of  the  occa- 
sion, saluted  both  the  bride  and  the  pretty  housemaid 
with  right  good  will,  and  having  wrung  Mr.  Winkle's 
hand  most  cordially,  wound  up  his  demonstrations  of 
joy  by  taking  snuff  enough  to  set  any  half  dozen 
men,  with  ordinarily  constructed  noses,  a  sneezing  for 
life. 

"Why,  my  dear  girl,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "how  has 
all  this  come  about?  Come,  sit  down,  and  let  me  hear 
it  all.  How  well  she  looks,  doesn't  she,  Perker?"  added 
Mr.  Pickwick,  surveying  Arabella's  face  with  a  look  of 
as  much  pride  and  exultation  as  if  she  had  been  his 
daughter. 

"  Delightful,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  the  little  man.  "  If 
I  were  not  a  married  man  myself.  I  should  be  disposed 
to  envy  you,  you  dog."  Thus  expressing  himself,  the 
lawyer  gave  Mr.  Winkle  a  poke  in  the  chest,  which  that 
gentleman  reciprocated;  after  which  they  botli  laughed 
very  loudly,  but  not  so  loudly  as  Mr.  Samuel  AVeller, 


280  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  01" 


who  had  just  relieved  his  feelings  by  kissing  the  pretty 
housemaid,  under  cov  r  of  the  cupboard-door. 

''I  can  never  be  grateful  enough  to  you,  Sam,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Arabella,  with  the  sweetest  smile  imagin- 
able. I  shall  not  forget  your  exertions  in  the  garden 
at  Clifton." 

Don't  say  nothin'  wotever  about  it,  ma'am,"  replied 
Sam.  "I  only  assisted  natur,  ma'am;  as  the  doctor  said 
to  the  boy's  mother,  arter  he'd  bled  him  to  death." 

''Mary,  my  dear,  sit  down,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  cut- 
ting short  these  compliments.  ''Now  then — how  long 
have  you  been  married,  eh?" 

Arabella  looked  bashfully  at  her  lord  and  master,  who 
replied,  "Only  three  days." 

"Only  three  days,  eh?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Why, 
what  have  you  been  doing  these  three  months?" 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure,"  interposed Perker;  "come!  Account 
for  this  idleness.  You  see  Mr.  Pickwick's  only  aston- 
ishment is  that  it  wasn't  all  over  months  ago." 

"Why,  the  fact  is,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  looking  at 
his  blushing  young  wife,  "that  I  could  not  persuade 
Bella  to  run  away,  for  a  long  time ;  and  when  I  had  per- 
suaded her,  it  was  a  long  time  more  before  we  could 
find  an  opportunity.  Mary  had  to  give  a  month's  warn- 
ing, too,  before  she  could  leave  her  place  next  door,  and 
we  couldn't  possibly  have  done  it  without  her  assistance." 

"Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  by 
this  time  had  resumed  his  spectacles,  and  was  looking 
from  Arabella  to  Winkle,  and  from  Winkle  to  Arabella, 
with  as  much  delight  depicted  in  his  countenance  as 
warm-heartedness  and  kindly  feeling  can  communi- 
cate to  the  human  face — "upon  my  word!  you  seem  to 
have  been  very  systematic  in  your  proceedings.  And 
is  your  brother  acquainted  with  all  this,  my  dear?'  ' 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  replied  Arabella,  changing  colour. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  must  only  know  it  from  you — 
from  your  lips  alone.  He  is  so  violent,  so  prejudiced, 
and  has  been  so — so  anxious  in  behalf  of  his  friend,  Mr. 
Sawyer,"  added  Arabella,  looking  down,  "that  I  fear 
the  consequences  dreadfully." 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  Perker,  gravely.  "You  must 
take  this  matter  in  hand  for  them,  my  dear  sir.  These 
young  men  will  respect  you,  when  they  would  listen  to 
nobody  else.    You  must  prevent  mischief,  my  dear  sir, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


281 


Hot  blood — hot  blood."  And  the  little  man  took  a 
warning  pinch,  and  shook  his  head,  doubtfully. 

You  forget,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gently, 
you  forget  that  I  am  a  prisoner." 

No,  indeed  I  do  not,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Arabella. 
'•I  never  have  forgotten,  it:  I  have  never  ceased  to 
think  how  great  your  sufferings  must  have  been  in  this 
shocking  place;  but  I  hoped  that  what  no  consideration 
for  yourself  would  induce  you  to  do,  a  regard  to  our 
happiness  might.  If  my  brother  hears  of  this,  first, 
from  you,  I  feel  certain  we  shall  be  reconciled.  He  is 
my  only  relation  in  the  world,  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  unless 
you  plead  for  me,  I  fear  I  have  lost  even  him.  I  have 
done  wrong — very,  very  wrong,  I  know."  Here  poor 
Arabella  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief,  and  wept 
bitterly. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  nature  was  a  good  deal  worked  upon, 
by  these  same  tears;  but  when  Mrs.  Winkle,  drying  her 
eyes,  took  to  coaxing  and  entreating  in  the  sweetest 
tones  of  a  very  sweet  voice,  he  became  particularly  rest- 
less, and  evidently  undecided  how  to  act,  as  was  evinced 
by  sundry  nervous  rubbings  of  his  spectacle-glasses, 
nose,  tights,  head,  and  gaiters. 

Taking  advantage  of  these  symptoms  of  indecision, 
Mr.  Perker  (to  v^hom,  it  appeared,  the  young  couple  had 
driven  straight  that  morning)  urged,  with  legal  point 
and  shrewdness,  that  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  w^as  still  un- 
acquainted with  the  important  rise  in  life's  flight  of 
steps  which  his  son  had  taken;  that  the  future  expecta- 
tions of  the  said  son  depended  entirely  upon  the  said 
Winkle,  senior,  continuing  to  regard  him  with  un- 
diminished feelings  of  affection  and  attachment,  which 
it  was  very  unlikely  he  would,  if  this  great  event  were 
long  kept  a  secret  from  him;  that  Mr.  Pickwick  repair- 
ing to  Bristol  to  seek  Mr.  Allen,  might,  with  equal 
reason,  repair  to  Birmingham  to  seek  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior;  lastly,  that  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  had  good  right 
and  title  to  consider  Mr.  Pickwick  in  some  degree  the 
guardian  and  adviser  of  his  son,  and  that  it  conse- 
quently behooved  that  gentleman,  and  was  indeed  due 
to  his  personal  character,  to  acquaint  the  aforesaid 
Winkle,  senior,  personally,  and  by  word  of  mouth,  with 
the  whole  circumstances  of  the  case,  and  with  the  share 
he  had  taken  in  the  transaction. 


282 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  arrived,  most  oppor- 
tunely, in  this  stage  of  the  pleadings,  and  as  it  was 
necessary  to  explain  to  them  all  that  had  occurred,  to- 
gether with  the  various  reasons  pro  and  con,  the  whole 
of  the  arguments  were  gone  over  again,  after  which 
everybody  urged  every  argument  in  his  own  way  and 
at  his  own  length.  And,  at  last,  Mr.  Pickwick,  fairly 
argued  and  remonstrated  out  of  all  his  resolutions,  and 
being  in  imminent  danger  of  being  argued  and  remon- 
strated out  of  his  wits,  caught  Arabella  in  his  arms, 
declaring  she  was  a  very  amiable  creature,  and  that  he 
didn't  know  how  it  was,  but  he  had  always  been  very 
fond  of  her  from  the  first,  said  he  could  never  find 
it  in  his  heart  to  stand  in  the  way  of  young  people's 
happiness,  and  they  might  do  with  him  as  they 
pleased. 

Mr.  Weller's  first  act  on  hearing  this  concession  was 
to  despatch  Job  Trotter  to  the  illustrious  Mr.  Pell  with 
an  authority  to  deliver  to  the  bearer  the  formal  dis- 
charge which  his  prudent  parent  had  had  the  foresight 
to  leave  in  the  hands  of  that  learned  gentleman,  in  case 
it  should  be,  at  any  time,  required  on  an  emergency; 
his  next  proceeding  was  to  invest  his  whole  stock  of 
ready  money  in  the  purchase  of  five-and-twenty  gallons 
of  mild  porter,  which  he  himself  dispensed  on  the 
racket  ground  to  everybody  who  would  partake  of  it; 
this  done,  he  hurra'd  in  divers  parts  of  the  building 
until  he  lost  his  voice,  and  then  quietly  relapsed  into 
his  usual  collected  and  philosophical  condition. 

At  three  o'clock  that  afternoon  Mr.  Pickwick  took  a 
last  look  at  his  little  room,  and  made  his  way,  as  well 
as  he  could,  through  the  throng  of  debtors  who  pressed 
eagerly  forward  to  shake  him  by  the  hand,  until  he 
reached  the  lodge  steps.  He  turned  here  to  look  about 
him,  and  his  eye  lightened  as  he  did  so.  In  all  the  crowd 
of  wan,  emaciated  faces,  he  saw  not  one  which  was  not 
the  happier  for  his  sympathy  and  charity. 

Perker,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  beckoning  one  young 
man  towards  him,  this  is  Mr.  Jingle,  whom  I  spoke  to 
you  about." 

^'Very  good,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Perker,  looking 
hard  at  Jingle.  ''You  will  see  me  again,  young  man, 
to-morrow.  I  hope  you  may  live  to  remember  and  feel 
deeply  what  I  shall  have  to  communicate,  sir." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


283 


Jingle  bowed  respectfully,  trembled  very  much  as  he 
took  Mr.  Pickwick's  proffered  hand,  and  withdrew. 

''Job  you  know,  I  think?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pre- 
senting that  gentleman. 

''  I  know  the  rascal,"  replied  Perker,  good-humouredly. 
"  See  after  your  friend,  and  be  in  the  way  to-morrow  at 
one.    Do  you  hear  ?   Now,  is  there  anything  more  ?  " 

''Nothing,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  "You  have  de- 
livered the  little  parcel  I  gave  you  for  your  old  land- 
lord, Sam  ?  " 

"  I  have,  sir,"  replied  Sam.  "  He  bust  out  a  cryin',  sir, 
and  said  you  wos  worry  gen'rous  and  thoughtful,  and  he 
only  wished  you  could  have  him  innockilated  for  a  gal- 
lopm'  consumption,  for  his  old  friend  as  had  lived  here 
so  long,  wos  dead,  and  he'd  noweres  to  look  for  another." 

"Poor  fellow,  poor  fellow!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"God  bless  you,  my  friends  !" 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  uttered  this  adieu  the  crowd  raised 
a  loud  shout.  Many  among  them  were  pressing  for- 
ward to  shake  him  by  the  hand  again,  when  he  drew 
his  arm  through  Perker's  and  hurried  from  the  prison, 
far  more  sad  and  melancholy  for  the  moment  than 
when  he  had  first  entered  it.  Alas  !  how  many  sad  and 
unhappy  beings  had  he  left  behind  !  and  how  many  of 
them  lie  caged  there  still ! 

A  happy  evening  was  that  for  at  least  one  party  in 
the  George  and  Vulture;  and  light  and  cheerful  were 
two  of  the  hearts  that  emerged  from  its  hospitable 
door  next  morning.  The  owners  thereof  were  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller,  the  former  of  whom  was 
speedily  deposited  inside  a  comfortable  post  coach,  with 
a  little  dickey  behind,  in  which  the  latter  mounted  with 
great  agility. 

"Sir,"  called  out  Mr.  Weller  to  his  master. 

"Well,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  thrusting  his 
head  out  of  the  window. 

"  I  wish  them  horses  had  been  three  months  and  better 
in  the  Fleet,  sir." 

"Why,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wy,  sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  rubbing  his  hands, 
"  how  they  would  go  if  they  had  been!" 


284  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XX. 

RELATES  HOW  MR.  PICKWICK,  WITH  THE  ASSISTANCE  OF 
SAMUEL  WELLER,  ESSAYED  TO  SOFTEN  THE  HEART  OF  MR. 
BENJAMIN  ALLEN,  AND  TO  MOLLIFY  THE  WRATH  OF  MR. 
ROBERT  SAWYER. 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  sat  together  in 
the  little  surgery  behind  the  shop,  discussing  minced 
veal  and  future  prospects,  when  the  discourse,  not  un- 
naturally, turned  upon  the  practice  acquired  by  Bob 
aforesaid,  and  his  present  chances  of  deriving  a  compe- 
tent independence  from  the  honourable  profession  to 
which  he  had  devoted  himself. 

— Which,  I  think,"  observed  Mr.  Bob  Sawjer,  pur- 
suing the  thread  of  the  subject,  which,  I  think,  Ben, 
are  rather  dubious.'' 

"  What's  rather  dubious!"  inquired  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  at 
the  same  time  sharpening  his  intellects  with  a  draught 
of  beer.      What's  dubious?" 

Why,  the  chances,"  responded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  I  forgot,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  "  The  beer  has  re- 
minded me  that  I  forgot.  Bob — yes;  they  are  dubious." 

It's  wonderful  how  the  poor  people  patronize  me," 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  reflectively.  '^They  knock  me 
up,  at  all  hours  of  the  night;  they  take  medicine  to  an 
extent  which  I  should  have  conceived  impossible;  they 
put  on  blisters  and  leeches  with  a  perseverance  worthy 
of  a  better  cause;  they  make  additions  to  their  families, 
in  a  manner  which  is  quite  awful.  Six  of  those  last- 
named  little  promissory  notes,  all  due  on  the  same  day, 
Ben,  and  all  intrusted  to  me!" 

/'It's  very  gratifying,  isn't  it?"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
lioMing  his  plate  for  some  more  minced  veal. 

"  Oh,  very,"  replied  Bob;  ''only  not  quite  so  much  so 
as  the  confidence  of  patients,  with  a  shilling  or  two  to 
spare,  would  be.  This  business  was  capitally  described 
in  the  advertisement,  Ben.  It  is  a  practice,  a  very  ex- 
tensive practice — and  that's  all." 

'*  Bob;"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  laying  down  his  knife  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


285 


fork,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  visage  of  his  friend; 
''Bob,  ril  tell  you  what  it  is." 

''What  is  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  You  must  make  yourself,  with  as  little  delay  as  pos- 
sible, master  of  Arabella's  one  thousand  pounds." 

"  Three  per  cent,  consolidated  Bank  annuities,  now 
standing  in  her  name  in  the  book  or  books  of  the  Gover- 
nor and  Company  of  the  Bank  of  England,"  added  Bob 
Sawyer,  in  legal  phraseology. 

"Exactly  so,"  said  Ben.  "  She  has  it  when  she  comes 
of  age,  or  marries.  She  wants  a  year  of  coming  of  age, 
and  if  you  plucked  up  spirit  she  needn't  want  a  month  of 
being  married." 

"  She's  a  very  charming  and  delightful  creature," 
quoth  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer,  in  reply;  "and  has  only  one 
fault  that  I  know  of,  Ben.  It  happens,  unfortunately, 
that  that  single  blemish  is  a  want  of  taste.  She  don't 
like  me." 

"It's  my  opinion  she  don't  know  what  she  does  like," 
said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  contemptuously." 

"Perhaps  not,"  remarked  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  "  But  it's 
my  opinion  that  she  does  know  what  she  doesn't  like, 
and  that's  of  more  importance." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  setting  his  teeth  together, 
and  speaking  more  like  a  savage  warrior  who  fed  on  raw 
wolf's  flesh  which  he  carved  with  his  fingers,  than  a 

Eeaceable  young  gentleman  who  ate  minced  veal  with  a 
nife  and  fork,  "  I  wish  I  knew  whether  any  rascal  really 
has  been  tampering  with  her,  and  attempting  to  engage 
her  affections.    I  think  I  should  assassinate  him.  Bob." 

"  I'd  put  a  bullet  in  him,  if  I  found  him  out,"  said  Mr. 
Sawyer,  stopping  in  the  course  of  a  long  draught  of  beer, 
and  looking  malignantly  out  of  the  porter  pot.  "  If  that 
didn't  do  his  business,  I'd  extract  it  afterwards,  and  kill 
him  that  way." 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  gazed  abstractedly  on  his  friend 
for  some  minutes  in  silence,  and  then  said: 

"You  have  never  proposed  to  her,  point-blank.  Bob?" 
"  No.    Because  I  saw  it  would  be  of  no  use,"  replied 
Mr.  Robert  Sawyer. 

"You  shall  do  it,  before  you  are  twenty-four  hours 
older,"  retorted  Ben,  with  desperate  calmness.  "She 
shall  have  you,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why.  I'll  exert 
my  authority." 


286  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''Well/'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  "  we  shall  see." 

''We  shall  see,  my  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
fiercely.  He  paused  for  a  few  seconds,  and  added, 
in  a  voice  broken  by  emotion,  '^You  have  loved  her 
from  a  child,  my  friend — you  loved  her  when  we  were 
boys  at  school  together,  and  even  then  she  was  way- 
ward, and  slighted  your  young  feelings.  Do  you  recol- 
lect, with  all  the  eagerness  of  a  child's  love,  one  day 
pressing  upon  her  acceptance  two  small  caraway  seed 
biscuits  and  one  sweet  apple,  neatly  folded  into  a  circu- 
lar parcel  with  the  leaf  of  a  copybook?" 

"  I  do,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 

'^She  slighted  that,  I  think?"  said  Ben  Allen. 

''She  did,"  rejoined  Bob.  "She  said  I  had  kept  the 
parcel  so  long  in  the  pockets  of  my  corduroys  that  the 
apple  was  unpleasantly  warm." 

"I  remember,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  gloomily.  "Upon 
which  we  ate  it  ourselves,  in  alternate  bites." 

Bob  Sawyer  intimated  his  recollection  of  the  circum- 
stance last  alluded  to  by  a  melancholy  frown;  and  the 
two  friends  remained  for  some  time  absorbed,  each  in 
his  own  meditations. 

While  these  observations  were  being  exchanged  be- 
tween Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen:  and 
while  the  boy  in  the  grey  livery,  marvelling  at  the  un- 
wonted prolongation  of  the  dinner,  cast  an  anxious  look, 
from  time  to  time,  towards  the  glass  door,  distracted  by 
inward  misgivings  regarding  the  amount  of  minced  veal 
which  would  be  ultimately  reserved  for  his  individual 
cravings:  there  rolled  soberly  on,  through  the  streets  of 
Bristol,  a  private  fly,  painted  of  a  sad  green  colour, 
drawn  by  a  chubby  sort  of  brown  horse,  and  driven  by 
a  surly-looking  man  with  his  legs  dressed  like  the  legs 
of  a  groom,  and  his  body  attired  in  the  coat  of  a  coach- 
man. Such  appearances  are  common  to  many  vehicles 
belonging  to,  and  maintained  by,  old  ladies  of  econom- 
ical habits;  and  in  this  vehicle  sat  an  old  lady  who  was 
its  mistress  and  proprietor. 

"Martin!"  said  the  old  lady,  calling  to  the  surly  man, 
out  of  the  front  window. 

"Well?"  said  the  surly  man,  touching  his  hat  to  the 
old  lady. 

"  Mr.  Sawyer's,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  I  was  going  there,"  said  the  surly  man. 


"  THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


287 


"  The  old  lady  nodded  the  satisfaction  which  this  proof 
of  the  surly  man's  foresight  imparted  to  her  feel- 
ings; and,  the  surly  man  giving  a  smart  lash  to  the 
chubby  horse,  they  all  repaired,  to  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's 
together. 

Martin!"  said  the  old  lady,  when  the  fly  stopped  at 
the  door  of  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf . 

^^Well?"  said  Martin. 
Ask  the  lad  to  step  out,  and  mind  the  horse." 
I'm  going  to  mind  the  horse  myself,"  said  Martin, 
laying  his  whip  on  the  roof  of  the  fly. 

""'I  can't  permit  it,  on  .any  account,"  said  the  old  lady; 
''your  testimony  will  he  very  important,  and  I  must 
take  you  into  the  house  with  me.  You  must  not  stir 
from  my  side  during  the  whole  interview.  Do  you 
hear?" 

''I  hear,"  replied  Martin. 

''Well;  what  are  you  stopping  for?" 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Martin.  So  saying,  the  surly  man 
leisurely  descended  from  the  wheel,  on  which  he  had 
been  poising  himself  on  the  tops  of  the  toes  of  his  right 
foot,  and,  having  summoned  the  boy  in  the  grey  livery, 
opened  the  coach-door,  flung  down  the  steps,  and, 
thrusting  in  a  hand  enveloped  in  a  dark  wash-leather 
glove,  pulled  out  the  old  lady  with  as  much  unconcern 
in  his  manner  as  if  she  were  a  bandbox. 

"  Dear  me,"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "  I  am  so  flurried, 
now  I  have  got  here,  Martin,  that  I'm  all  in  a  tremble." 

Mr.  Martin  coughed  behind  the  dark  wash-leather 
glove,  but  expressed  no  sympathy;  so  the  old  lady,  com- 
posing herself,  trotted  up  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  steps,  and 
Mr.  Martin  followed.  Immediately  upon  the  old"  lady's 
entering  the  shop,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  and  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  who  had  been  putting  the  spirits  and  water  out 
of  sight,  and  upsetting  nauseous  drugs  to  take  off  the 
smell  of  the  tobacco-smoke,  issued  hastily  forth  in  a 
transport  of  pleasure  and  affection. 

"My  dear  aunt,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  "how 
kind  of  you  to  look  in  upoil  us  I  Mr.  Sawyer,  aunt;  my 
friend,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  that  I  have  spoken  to  you  about, 
regarding — you  know,  aunt."  And  here  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
who  was  not  at  the  moment  extraordinarily  sober,  added 
the  word  "Arabella"  in  what  was  meant  to  be  a  whis- 
per, but  which  was,  in  fact,  an  especially  audible  and 


288 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


distinct  tone  of  speech,  which  nobody  could  avoid  hear- 
ing, if  anybody  were  so  disposed. 

''My  dear  Benjamin,"  said  the  old  lady,  struggling 
with  a  great  shortness  of  breath,  and  trembling  from 
head  to  foot — ''don't  be  alarmed,  my  dear,  but  I  think  I 
had  better  speak  to  Mr.  Sawyer,  alone,  for  a  moment — 
only  for  one  moment." 

"Bob,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  "will  you  take  my  aunt 
into  the  surgery?" 

"Certainly,"  responded  Bob,  in  a  most  professional 
voice.  "Step  this  way,  my  dear  ma'am.  Don't  be 
frightened,  ma'am.  We  shall  be  able  to  set  you  to 
rights  in  a  very  short  time,  I  have  no  doubt,  ma'am. 
Here,  my  dear  ma'am.  Now  then!"  With  this,  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  having  handed  the  old  lady  to  a  chair,  shut 
the  door,  drew  another  chair  close  to  her,  and  waited  to 
hear  detailed  the  symptoms  of  some  disorder  from  which 
he  saw  in  perspective  a  long  train  of  profits  and  advan- 
tages. 

The  first  thing  the  old  lady  did  was  to  shake  her  head 
a  great  many  times,  and  begin  to  cry. 

"Nervous,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  complacently.  "Cam- 
phor-julep and  water  three  times  a-day,  and  composing 
draught  at  night." 

"I  don't  know  how  to  begin,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  the 
old  lady.    "  It  is  so  very  painful  and  distressing." 

"You  need  not  begin,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bob  Saw- 
yer. "  I  can  anticipate  all  you  would  say.  The  head  is 
in  fault." 

'•I  should  be  very  sorry  to  think  it  was  the  heart,", 
said  the  old  lady,  with  a  slight  groan. 

"Not  the  slightest  danger  of  that,  ma'am,"  replied 
Bob  Sawyer.    "The  stomach  is  the  primary  cause." 

"Mr.  Sawyer!"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  starting. 

"Not  the  least  doubt  of  it,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Bob, 
looking  wondrous  wise.  "  Medicine,  in  time,  my  dear 
ma'am,  would  have  prevented*  it  all." 

"Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  the  old  lady,  more  flurried  than 
before,  "this  conduct  is  either  great  impertinence  to 
one  in  my  situation,  sir,  or  it  arises  from  your  not  under- 
standing the  object  of  my  visit.  If  it  had  been  in  the 
power  of  medicine,  or  any  foresight  I  could  have  used, 
to  prevent  what  has  occurred,  I  should  certainly  have 
done  so.    I  had  better  see  my  nephew  at  once,"  said  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


289 


old  lady,  twirling  her  reticule  indignantly,  and  rising 
as  she  spoke. 

'^Stop  a  moment,  ma'am,"  said  Bob  Sawyer;  I  am 
afraid  I  have  not  understood  you.  What  is  the  matter, 
ma'am?" 

*^My  niece,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  the  old  lady — ^^your 
friend's  sister. 

Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Bob,  all  impatience;  for  the  old 
lady,  although  much  agitated,  spoke  with  the  most  tan- 
talizing deliberation,  as  old  ladies  often  do.  '^Yes, 
ma'am?" 

"  Left  my  home,  Mr.  Sawyer,  three  days  ago,  on  a  pre- 
tended visit  to  my  sister,  another  aunt  of  hers,  who 
keeps  the  large  boarding  school  just  beyond  the  third 
mile  stone,  where  there  is  a  very  large  laburnum  tree 
and  an  oak  gate,"  said  the  old  lady,  stopping  in  this 
place  to  dry  her  eyes. 

Oh,  devil  take  the  laburnum  tree!  ma'am,"  said  Bob, 
quite  forgetting  his  professional  dignity  in  his  anxiety. 
''Get  on  a  little  faster;  put  a  little  more  steam  on, 
ma'am,  pray." 

''  This  morning,"  said  the  old  lady,  slowly,  this  morn- 
ing, she — " 

''She  came  back,  ma'am,  I  suppose,"  said  Bob,  with 
great  animation.    "  Did  she  come  back?" 

"  No,  she  did  not — she  wrote,"  replied  the  old  lady. 

^' What  did  she  say?"  inquired  Bob,  eagerly. 

"  She  said,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  replied  the  old  lady,  ^'and  it 
is  this  I  want  you  to  prepare  Benjamin's  mind  for, 
gently  and  by  degrees;  she  said  that  she  was — I  have 
got  the  letter  in  my  pocket,  Mr.  Sawyer,  but  my  glasses 
are  in  the  carriage,  and  I  should  only  waste  your  time  if 
I  attempted  to  point  out  the  passage  to  you,  without 
them;  she  said,  in  short,  Mr.  Sawyer,  that  she  was  miir- 
ried." 

"What!"  said,  or  rather  shouted,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"Married,"  repeated  the  old  lady. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  stopped  to  hear  no  more;  but  darting 
from  the  surgery  into  tne  outer  shop,  cried,  in  a  stento- 
rian voice,  "I?en,  myboy,  she's  bolted." 

Mr.  Ben  Allen,  who  had  been  slumbering  behind  the 
counter,  with  his  head  half  a  foot  or  so  below  his  knees, 
no  sooner  heard  this  appalling  communication,  than  he 
made  a  precipitate  rusn  at  Mr.  Martin,  and  twisting  his 


290 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


hand  in  the  neckcloth  of  that  taciturn  servitor,  expressed 
an  intention  of  choking  him  where  he  stood;  which  in- 
tention, with  a  promptitude  often  the  effect  of  despera- 
tion, he  at  once  commenced  carrying  into  execution 
with  much  vigour  and  surgical  skill. 

Mr.  Martin,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and  pos- 
sessed but  little  power  of  eloquence  or  persuasion,  sub- 
mitted to  this  operation  with  a  very  calm  and  agreeable 
expression  of  countenance,  for  some  seconds;  finding, 
however,  that  it  threatened  speedily  to  lead  to  a  result 
which  would  place  it  beyond  his  power  to  claim  any 
wages,  board  or  otherwise,  in  all  time  to  come,  he  mut- 
tered an  inarticulate  remonstrance,  and  felled  Mr.  Ben- 
jamin Allen  to  the  ground.  As  that  gentleman  had  his 
hands  entangled  in  his  cravat,  he  had  no  alternative 
but  to  follow  him  to  the  floor.  There  they  both  lay 
struggling,  when  the  shop  door  opened,  and  the  party 
was  increased  by  the  arrival  of  two  most  unexpected 
visitors :  to  wit,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller. 

The  impression  at  once  produced  upon  Mr.  Weller's 
mind  by  what  he  saw  was  that  Mr.  Martin  was  hired 
by  the  establishment  of  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf ,  to  take 
strong  medicine,  or  to  go  into  fits  and  be  experimental- 
ized upon,  or  to  swallow  poison  now  and  then  with  the 
view  of  testing  the  efficacy  of  some  new  antidotes,  or  to  do 
something  or  other  to  promote  the  great  science  of  med- 
icine, and  gratify  the  ardent  spirit  of  inquiry  burning 
in  the  bosoms  of  its  two  young  professors.  So,  with- 
out presuming  to  interfere,  Sam  stood  perfectly  still, 
and  looked  on,  as  if  he  were  mightily  interested  in  the 
result  of  the  then  pending  experiment.  Not  so  Mr. 
Pickwick.  He  at  once  threw  himself  on  the  astonished 
combatants  with  his  accustomed  energy,  and  loudly 
called  upon  the  by-standers  to  interpose. 

This  roused  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  hitherto 
quite  paralyzed  by  the  frenzy  of  his  companion;  and, 
with  that  gentleman's  assistance,  Mr.  Pickwick  raised 
Ben  Allen  to  his  feet.  Mr.  Martin,  finding  himself  alone 
on  the  floor,  got  up,  and  looked  about  him. 

''Mr.  Allen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''what  is  the  matter, 
sir?" 

"Never  mind,  sir!"  replied  Mr.  Allen,  with  haughty 
defiance. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  291 

What  is  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  Bob 
Sawyer.      Is  he  unwell?" 

Before  Bob  could  reply,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  seized  Mr.  Pick- 
wick by  the  hand,  and  murmured,  in  sorrowful  accents, 
''My  sister,  my  dear  sir;  my  sister." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  We  shall  easily 
arrange  that  matter,  I  hope.  ''Your  sister  is  safe  and 
well,  and  I  am  here,  my  dear  sir,  to — " 

"  Sorry  to  do  any  thin'  as  may  cause  an  interruption  to 
such  worry  pleasant  proceedings,  as  the  king  said  wen 
he  dissolved  the  parliament,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  who 
had  been  peeping  through  the  glass  door  ;  "  but  there's 
another  experiment  here,  sir.  Here's  a  wenerable  old 
lady  a  lyin'  on  the  carpet  waitin'  for  dissection  or  gal- 
winism,  or  some  other  rewivin'  and  scientific  in- 
wention." 

"I  forgot,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  "It  is  my 
aunt." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Poor  lady  !  Gently, 
Sam,  gently." 

"Strange  sitivation  for  one  o' the  family,"  observed 
Sam  Weller,  hoisting  the  aunt  into  a  chair.  "Now, 
depitty  Sawbones,  bring  out  the  wollatilly." 

The  latter  observation  was  addressed  to  the  boy  in 
grey,  who,  having  handed  over  the  fly  to  the  care  of 
the  street-keeper,  had  come  back  to  see  what  all  the 
noise  was  about.  Between  the  boy  in  grey  and  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  (who,  having  fright- 
ened his  aunt  into  a  fainting  fit,  was  affectionately  so- 
licitous for  her  recovery),  the  old  lady  was  at  length 
restored  to  consciousness  ;  then  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  turning* 
with  a  puzzled  countenance  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  asked  him 
what  he  was  about  to  say  when  he  had  been  so  alarm- 
ingly interrupted. 

"  We  are  all  friends  here,  I  presume,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, clearing  his  voice,  and  looking  towards  the  man 
of  few  words  with  the  surly  countenance,  who  drove 
the  fly  with  the  chubby  horse. 

This  reminded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  that  the  boy  in  grey 
was  looking  on,  with  eyes  wide  open  and  greedy  ears. 
The  incipient  chemist  having  been  lifted  up  by  his 
coat  collar  and  dropped  outside  the  door.  Bob  Sawyer 
assured  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  might  speak  without 
reserve. 


292  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  Your  sister,  my  dear  sir/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turn 
ing  to  Benjamin  Allen,  is  in  London,  well  and  happy. " 

Her  happiness  is  no  object  to  me,  sir,^^  said  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen,  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand, 

"  Her  husband  is  an  object  to  me,  sir,"  said  Bob 
Sawyer.  ^'He  shall  be  an  object  to  me,  sir,  at  twelve 
paces,  and  a  very  pretty  object  1*11  make  of  him,  sir — a 
mean-spirited  scoundrel.''  This,  as  it  stood,  was  a  very 
pretty  denunciation,  and  magnanimous  withal ;  but 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  rather  weakened  its  effect  by  winding 
up  with  some  general  observations  concerning  the 
punching  of  heads  and  knocking  out  of  eyes,  which  were 
commonplace  by  comparison. 

''Stay,  sir,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  ''before  you  apply 
those  epithets  to  the  gentleman  in  question,  consider, 
dispassionately,  the  extent  of  his  fault,  and  above  all, 
remember  that  he  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"What  !"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  His  name,"  cried  Ben  Allen.    "  His  name  ! " 

"Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  deliberately  crushed  his  spectacles 
beneath  the  heel  of  his  boot,  and  having  picked  up  the 

Sieces  and  put  them  into  three  separate  pockets,  folded 
is  arms,  bit  his  lips,  and  looking  in  a  threatening  man- 
ner at  the  bland  features  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Then  it's  you,  is  it,  sir,  who  have  encouraged  and 
brought  about  this  match?"  inquired  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen,  at  length. 

"And  it's  this  gentleman's  servant,  I  suppose,"  inter- 
rupted the  old  lady,  "  who  has  been  skulking  about  my 
*  house,  and  endeavouring  to  entrap  my  servants  to  con- 
spire against  their  mistress.    Martin  !" 

"Well?"  said  the  surly  man,  coniing  forward. 
"Is  that  the  young  man  you  sav/  in  the  lane,  whom 
you  told  me  about  this  morning  ?  " 

Mr.  Martin,  who,  as  it  has  already  appeared,  was  a 
man  of  few  words,  looked  at  Sam  Weller,  nodded  his 
head,  and  growled  forth,  "That's  the  man!"  Mr. 
Weller,  who  was  never  proud,  gave  a  smile  of  friendly 
recognition  as  his  eyes  encountered  those  of  the  surly 
groom,  and  admitted  in  courteous  terms  that  he  had 
"  knowed  him  afore." 

"And  this  is  the  faithful  creature,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Ben  Allen,  "  whom  I  had  nearly  suffocated.    Mr.  Pick- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


293 


wick,  how  dare  you  allow  your  fellow  to  bo  employed  in 
the  abduction  of  my  sister  ?  I  demand  that  you  explain 
this  matter,  sir." 

Explain  it,  sir  ! cried  Bob  Sawyer,  fiercely. 

'^Ii's  a  conspiracy,"  said  Ben  Allen. 

''A  regular  plant,"  added  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

^'A  disgraceful  imposition,"  observed  the  old  lady. 
Nothing  but  a  do  !  "  remarked  Martin. 

''Pray  hear  me,"  urged  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Mr.  Ben 
Allen  fell  into  a  chair  that  patients  were  bled  in,  and 
gave  way  to  his  pocket-handkerchief.  I  have  rendered 
no  assistance  in  this  matter  beyond  that  of  being  at  one 
interview  between  the  young  people,  which  I  could  not 
prevent,  and  from  which  I  conceived  my  presence  would 
remove  any  slight  colouring  of  impropriety  that  it  might 
otherwise  have  had;  this  is  the  whole  share  I  have  taken 
in  the  transaction,  and  I  had  no  suspicion  that  an  im- 
mediate marriage  w^as  even  contemplated.  Though, 
mind,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily  checking  himself, 
''mind,  I  do  not  sa}^  I  should  have  prevented  it  if  I  had 
known  that  it  was  intended." 

"You  hear  that,  all  of  you;  you  hear  that?"  said  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen. 

"  I  hope  they  do,"  mildly  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  look- 
ing round,  "  and,"  added  that  gentleman,  his  colour 
mounting  as  he  spoke,  "I  hope  they  hear  this,  sir,  also 
— that  from  what  has  been  stated  to  me,  sir,  I  assert 
that  you  were  by  no  means  justified  in  attempting  to 
force  your  sister's  inclinations  as  you  did,  and  that  you 
should  rather  have  endeavoured  by  your  kindness  and 
forbearance  to  have  supplied  the  place  of  other  nearer 
relations  whom  she  has  never  known,  from  a  child.  As 
regards  my  young  friend,  I  must  beg  to  add  that  in  every 
point  of  worldly  advantage  he  is,  at  least,  on  an  equal 
footing  with  yourself,  if  not  on  a  much  better  one,  and 
that  unless  I  hear  this  question  discussed  with  becom- 
ing temper  and  moderation,  I  decline  hearing  any  more 
said  upon  the  subject." 

''  I  wish  to  make  a  werry  few  remarks  in  addition  to 
wot  lias  been  put  forward  by  the  honourable  gen'lm'n  as 
has  jist  given  over,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  stepping  forth, 
*'  wich  is  this  here:  a  indiv>^idual  in  company  has  called 
ine  a  feller." 

"That  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter, 


2U  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Sam/'  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''Pray  hold  your 
tongue." 

''I  ain't  a  goin'  to  say  nothin'  on  that  ere  pint,  sir," 
replied  Sam,  "  but  merely  this  here.  P'raps  that  gen'l'- 
m'n  may  think  as  there  wos  a  priory  'tachment;  but 
there  worn't  nothin'  o'  the  sort,  for  the  young  lady  said 
in  the  worry  beginnin'  o'  the  keepin'  company  that  she 
couldn't  abide  him.  Nobody's  cut  him  out,  and  it  'ud 
ha'  been  jist  the  worry  same  for  him  if  the  young  lady 
had  never  seen  Mr.  Winkle.  That's  wot  I  wished  to 
say,  sir,  and  I  hope  Fve  now  made  that  'ere  gen'l'm'n's 
mind  easy." 

A  short  pause  followed  these  consolatory  remarks  of 
Mr.  Weller.  Then  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  rising  from  his  chair, 
protested  that  he  would  never  see  Arabella's  face  again: 
while  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  despite  Sam's  flattering  assur- 
ance, vowed  dreadful  vengeance  on  the  happy  bride- 
groom. 

But,  just  when  matters  were  at  their  height,  and 
threatening  to  remain  so,  Mr.  Pickwick  found  a  power- 
ful assistant  in  the  old  lady,  who,  evidently  much  struck 
by  the  mode  in  which  he  advocated  her  niece's  cause, 
ventured  to  approach  Mr.  Benjamin  Alien  with  a  few 
comforting  reflections,  of  which  the  chief  were,  that 
after  all,  perhaps,  it  was  well  it  was  no  worse;  the  least 
said  the  soonest  mended,  and  upon  her  word  she  didn't 
know  that  it  was  so  very  bad  after  all;  that  what  was 
over  couldn't  be  begun,  and  what  couldn't  be  cured  must 
be  endured:  with  various  other  assurances  of  the  like 
novel  and  strengthening  description.  To  all  of  these, 
Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  replied  that  he  meant  no  disrespect 
to  his  aunt,  or  anybody  there,  but  if  it  were  all  the  same 
to  them,  and  they  would  allow  him  to  have  his  own  way, 
he  would  rather  have  the  pleasure  of  hating  his  sister 
till  death,  and  after  it. 

At  length,  when  this  determination  had  been  an- 
nounced half  a  hundred  times,  the  old  lady  suddenly 
bridling  up  and  looking  very  majestic,  wished  to  know 
what  she  had  done  that  no  respect  was  to  be  paid  to  her 
years  or  station,  and  that  she  should  be  obliged  to  beg 
and  pray,  in  that  way,  of  her  own  nephew,  whom  she 
remembered  about  flve-and-twenty  years  before  he  was 
born,  and  whom  she  had  known,  personally,  when  he 
hadn't  a  tooth  in  his  head;  to  say  nothing  of  her  pres- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


295 


ence  on  the  first  occasion  of  his  having  his  hair  cut,  and 
assistance  at  numerous  other  times  and  ceremonies 
during  his  babyhood,  of  sufficient  importance  to  found 
a  claim  upon  his  affection,  obedience,  and  sympathies, 
forever. 

While  the  good  lady  was  bestowing  this  objurgation 
on  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Pickwick  had 
retired  in  close  conversation  to  the  inner  room,  where 
Mr.  Sawyer  was  observed  to  apply  himself  several  times 
to  the  mouth  of  a  black  bottle,  under  the  influence  of 
which  his  features  gradually  assumed  a  cheerful  and 
even  jovial  expression.  And  at  last  he  emerged  from 
the  room,  bottle  in  hand,  and  remarking  that  he  was 
very  sorry  to  say  that  he  had  been  making  a  fool  of 
himself,  begged  to  propose  the  health  and  happiness  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Winkle,  whose  felicity,  so  far  from  envy- 
ing, he  would  be  the  first  to  congratulate  them  upon. 
Hearing  this,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  suddenly  arose  from  his 
chair,  and,  seizing  the  black  bottle,  drank  the  toast  so 
heartily  that,  the  liquor  being  strong,  he  became  nearly  as 
black  in  the  face  as  the  bottle  itself.  Finally,  the  black 
bottle  went  round  till  it  was  empty,  and  there  was  so 
much  shaking  of  hands  and  interchanging  of  compli- 
ments that  even  the  metal-visaged  Mr.  Martin  con- 
descended to  smile. 

^'And  now,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  rubbing  his  hands, 
we'll  have  a  jolly  night." 

''I  am  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  that  I  must  return 
to  my  inn.  I  have  not  been  accustomed  to  fatigue  lately, 
and  my  journey  has  tired  mo  exceedingly." 

''You'll  take  some  tea,  Mr.  Pickwick? "  said  the  old 
lady,  with  irresistible  sweetness. 

"  Thank  you,  I  would  rather  not,"  replied  that  gen- 
tleman. The  truth  is,  that  the  old  lady's  evidently 
increasing  admiration  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  principal  in- 
ducement for  going  away.  He  thought  of  Mrs.  Bardell; 
and  every  glance  of  the  old  lady's  eyes  threw  him  into 
a  cold  perspiration. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  could  by  no  means  be  prevailed  upon 
to  stay,  it  was  arranged,  at  once,  on  his  own  proposition, 
that  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  should  accompany  him  on  his 
journey  to  the  elder  Mr.  Winkle's,  and  that  the  coach 
should  be  at  the  door  at  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning. 
He  then  took  his  leave,  and,  followed  by  Samuel  Weller, 


296  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

repaired  to  the  Bush.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  Mr. 
Martin's  face  was  horribly  convulsed  as  he  shook  hands 
with  Sam  at  parting,  and  that  he  gave  vent  to  a  smile 
and  an  oath  simultaneously:  from  which  tokens  it  has 
been  inferred,  by  those  who  were  best  acquainted  with 
that  gentleman's  peculiarities,  that  he  expressed  himself 
much  pleased  with  Mr.  Weller's  society,  and  requested 
the  honour  of  his  further  acquaintance. 

Shall  I  order  a  private  room,  sir?"  inquired  Sam, 
when  they  reached  the  Bush. 

Why,  no,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  ''as  I  dined 
in  the  coffee-room,  and  shall  go  to  bed  soon,  it  is  hardly 
worth  while.  See  who  there  is  in  the  traveller's-room, 
Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  departed  on  his  errand,  and  presently  re- 
turned to  say  that  there  was  only  a  gentleman  with  one 
eye:  and  that  he  and  the  landlord  were  drinking  a  bowl 
of  bishop  together. 

I  will  join  them,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''He's  a  queer  customer,  the  vun-eyed  vun,  sir,"  ob- 
served Mr.  Weller,  as  he  led  the  way.  "He's  a  gam- 
monin'  that  'ere  landlord,  he  is,  sir,  till  he  don't  rightly 
know  wether  he's  a  standing  on  the  soles  of  his  boots  or 
the  crown  of  his  hat." 

The  individual  to  whom  this  observation  referred  was 
sitting  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room  when  Mr.  Pickwick 
entered,  and  was  smoking  a  large  Dutch  pipe,  with  his 
eye  intently  fixed  on  the  round  face  of  the  landlord:  a 
jolly  looking  old  personage,  to  whom  he  had  recently 
been  relating  some  tale  of  wonder,  as  was  testified  by 
sundry  disjointed  exclamations  of,  "Well,  I  wouldn't 
have  believed  it  !  The  strangest  thing  I  ever  heard  ! 
Couldn't  have  supposed  it  possible! "  and  other  expres- 
sions of  astonishment  which  burst  spontaneously  from 
his  lips,  as  he  returned  the  fixed  gaze  of  the  one-eyed 
man. 

"  Servant,  sir,"  said  the  one-eyed  man  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick.   "  Fine  night,  sir." 

"Very  much  so,  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the 
waiter  placed  a  small  decanter  of  brandy  and  some  hot 
water  before  him. 

While  Mr.  Pickwick  was  mixing  his  brandy  and  water, 
the  one-eyed  man  looked  round  at  him  earnestly,  from 
time  to  time,  and  at  length  said: 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  2^1/ 

I  think  I've  seen  you  before." 

"  I  don't  recollect  you,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 
I  dare  say  not,"  said  the  one-eyed  man.    You  didn't 
know  me,  but  I  knew  two  friends  of  yours  that  were 
stopping  at  the  'Peacock  at  Eatanswill,  at  the  time  of 
the  Election." 

''Oh,  indeed!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''Yes,"  rejoined  the  one-eyed  man.  "  I  mentioned  a 
little  circumstance  to  them  about  a  friend  of  mine  of  the 
name  of  Tom  Smart.  Perhaps  you've  heard  them  speak 
of  it. 

"Often,"  rejoined  Mr,  Pickwick,  smiling.  "He  was 
your  uncle,  I  think?" 

"No,  no— only  a  friend  of  my  uncle's/'  replied  the 
one-eyed  man. 

"  He  was  a  wonderful  man,  that  uncle  of  yours, 
though,"  remarked  the  landlord,  shaking  his  head. 

"Well,  I  think  he  was;  I  think  I  may  say  he  was," 
answered  that  one-eyed  man.  "  I  could  tell  you  a  story 
about  the  same  uncle,  gentlemen,  that  would  rathet 
surprise  you." 

"  Could  you  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  Let  us  hear  it,  by 
all  ilieans." 

The  one-eyed  Bagman  ladled  out  a  glass  of  negus  from 
the  bowl,  and  drank  it;  smoked  a  long  whiff  out  of  the 
Dutch  pipe;  called  to  SamWeller,  who  was  lingering  near 
the  door,  that  he  needn't  go  away  unless  he  wanted  to, 
because  the  story  was  no  secret,  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
landlord's,  and  proceeded,  in  the  words  of  the  next 
chapter. 


298  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXL 

CONTAINING  THE  STORY  OF  THE  BAGMAN'S  UNCLE. 

My  uncle,  gentlemen/'  said  the  bagman,  ''was  one 
of  the  merriest,  pleasantest,  cleverest  fellows  that  ever 
lived.  I  wish  you  had  known  him,  gentlemen.  On  second 
thoughts,  gentlemen,  I  don't  wish  you  had  known  him, 
for  if  you  had,  you  would  have  been  all,  by  this  time,  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  if  not  dead,  at  all  events 
so  near  it  as  to  have  taken  to  stopping  at  home  and 
giving  up  company:  which  would  have  deprived  me  of 
the  inestimable  pleasure  of  addressing  you  at  this  mo- 
ment. Gentlemen,  I  wish  your  fathers  and  mothers 
had  known  my  uncle.  They  would  have  been  amazingly 
fond  of  him,  especially  your  respectable  mothers;  I 
know  thoy  would.  If  any  two  of  his  numerous  virtues 
predominated  over  the  many  that  adorned  his  character, 
I  should  say  they  were  his  mixed  punch  and  his  after 
supper  song.  Excuse  my  dwelling  on  those  melancholy 
recollections  of  departed  worth;  you  won't  see  a  man  like 
my  uncle  every  day  in  the  week. 

''I  have  always  considered  it  a  great  point  in  my 
uncle's  character,  gentlemen,  that  he  was  the  intimate 
friend  and  companion  of  Tom  Smart,  of  the  great  house 
of  Bilson  and  Slum,  Cateaton  Street,  City.  My  uncle 
collected  for  Tiggin  and  Welps,  but  for  a  long  time  he 
went  pretty  near  the  same  journey  as  Tom;  and  the 
very  first  night  they  met  my  uncle  took  a  fancy  for  Tom, 
and  Tom  took  a  fancy  for  my  uncle.  They  made  a  bet 
of  a  new  hat,  before  they  had  known  each  other  half  an 
hour,  who  should  brew  the  best  quart  of  punch  and 
drink  it  the  quickest.  My  uncle  was  judged  to  have 
won  the  making,  but  Tom  Smart  beat  him  in  the  drink- 
ing by  about  half  a  salt-spoon-full.  They  took  another 
quart  apiece  to  drink  each  other's  health  in,  and  were 
staunch  friends  ever  afterwards.  There's  a  destiny  in 
these  things,  gentlemen;  we  can't  help  it. 

"  In  personal  appearance,  my  uncle  was  a  trifle  shorter 
than  the  middle  size;  he  was  a  thought  stouter,  too,  than 
the  ordinary  run  of  people,  and  perhaps  his  face  might 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


299 


be  a  shade  redder.  He  had  the  jolliest  face  you  ever 
saw,  gentlemen:  something  like  Punch,  with  a  hand- 
somer nose  and  chin;  his  eyes  were  always  twinkling 
and  sparkling  with  good  humour;  and  a  smile — not  one 
of  your  unmeaning  wooden  grins,  but  a  real  merry, 
hearty,  good-tempered  smile — was  perpetually  on  hi^ 
countenance.  He  was  pitched  out  of  his  gig  once,  and 
knocked,  head  first,  against  a  mile- stone.  There  he  lay, 
stunned,  and  so  cut  about  the  face  with  some  gravel 
which  had  been  heaped  up  alongside  it,  that,  to  use  my 
uncle's  own  strong  expression,  if  his  mother  could  have 
revisited  this  earth,  she  vv^ouldn't  have  known  him.  In- 
deed, when  I  come  to  think  of  the  matter,  gentlemen,  I 
feel  pretty  sure  she  wouldn't,  for  she  died  v/hen  my 
uncle  was  two  years  and  seven  m.onths  old,  and  I  think 
it's  very  likely  that,  even  without  the  gravel,  his  top- 
boots  would  have  puzzled  the  good  lady  not  a  little:  to 
say  nothing  of  his  jolly  red  face.  However,  there  he 
lay,  and  I  have  heard  my  uncle  say,  many  a  time,  that 
the  man  said  wJio  picked  him  up  that  he  vv^as  smiling  as 
merrily  as  if  he  had  tumbled  out  for  a  treat,  and  that, 
after  they  had  bled  him,  the  first  faint  glimmerings  of 
returning  animation  were  his  jumping  up  in  bed,  burst- 
ing out  into  a  loud  laugh,  kissing  the  young  woman 
who  held  the  basin,  and  demanding  a  mutton  chop  and 
a  pickled  walnut  instantly.  He  was  very  fond  of  pickled 
walnuts,  gentlemen.  He  said  he  always  found  that, 
taken  without  vinegar,  they  relished  the  beer. 

My  uncle's  great  journey  was  in  the  fall  of  the  leaf, 
at  which  time  he  collected  debts,  and  took  orders,  in  the 
north:  going  from  London  to  Edinburgh,  from  Edin- 
burgh to  Glasgow,  from  Glasgow  back  to  Edinburgh, 
and  thence  to  London  by  the  smack.  You  ai-e  to  under- 
stand that  his  second  visit  to  Edinbui^I.  was  for  his 
own  pleasure.  He  used  to  go  back  for  i<>  week,  just  to 
look  up  his  old  friends;  and  vv^^hat  with  breakfasting 
with  this  one,  lunching  with  that,  dinin.q;  with  a  third, 
and  supping  with  another,  a  pretty  tight  v/ec  k  he  used 
to  make  of  it.  I  don't  know  whether  sny  of  you,  gen- 
tlemen, ever  partook  of  a  real  substantial,  hospitable 
Scotch  breakfast,  and  then  went  out  to  a  slight  lunch  of 
a  bushel  of  oysters,  a  dozen  or  so  of  bc'trl^id  ale,  and  a 
noggin  or  two  of  whiskey  to  close  up  witli.  If  you  ever 
did,  you  will  agree  with  me  that  it  requires  a  pretty 


300 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


strong  head  to  go  out  to  dinner  and  supper  after- 
wards. 

But  bless  your  hearts  and  eyebrows,  all  this  sort  of 
thing  was  nothing  to  my  uncle!  He  was  so  well  sea- 
soned, that  it  was  mere  child's  play.  I  have  heard  him 
say  that  he  could  see  the  Dundee  people  out,  any  day, 
and  walk  home  afterwards  without  staggering;  and  yet 
the  Dundee  people  have  as  strong  heads  and  as  strong 
punch,  gentlemen,  as  you  are  likely  to  meet  with,  be- 
tween the  poles.  I  have  heard  of  a  Glasgow  man  and  a 
Dundee  man  drinking  against  each  other  for  fifteen 
hours  at  a  sitting.  They  were  both  suffocated,  as  nearly 
as  could  be  ascertained,  at  the  same  moment,  but  with 
this  trifling  exception,  gentlemen,  they  were  not  a  bit 
the  worse  for  it. 

"  One  night,  within  four-and-twenty  hours  of  the  time 
when  he  had  settled  to  take  shipping  for  London,  my 
uncle  supped  at  the  house  of  a  very  old  friend  of  his,  a 
Baillie  Mac  something,  and  four  syllables  after  it,  who 
lived  in  the  old  town  of  Edinburgh.  There  were  the 
baillie's  wife  and  the  baillie's  three  daughters,  and  the 
baillie's  grown-up  son,  and  three  or  four  stout,  bushy 
eye-browed,  canty  old  Scotch  fellows,  that  the  baillie 
had  got  together  to  do  honour  to  my  uncle,  and  help  to 
make  merry.  It  was  a  glorious  supper.  There  was 
kippered  salmon,  and  Finnan  haddocks,  and  a  lamb's 
head,  and  a  haggis— a  celebrated  Scotch  dish,  gentlemen, 
which  my  uncle  used  to  say  always  looked  to  him,  when 
it  came  to  table,  very  much  like  a  cupid's  stomach — and 
a  great  many  other  things  besides,  that  I  forget  the 
narnes  of,  but  very  good  things  notwithstanding.  The 
lassies  were  pretty  and  agreeable;  the  baillie's  wife,  one 
of  the  best  creatures  that  ever  lived;  and  my  uncle  in 
thoroughly  good  cue  :  the  consequence  of  which  was 
that  the  young  ladies  tittered  and  giggled,  and  the  old 
lady  laughed  out  loud,  and  the  baillie  and  the  other  old 
fellows  roared  till  they  were  red  in  the  face,  the  whole 
mortal  time.  I  don't  quite  recollect  how  many  tumblers 
of  whiskey  toddy  each  mail  drank  af ter^upper,  but  this 
I  know,  that  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  the 
baillie's  grown-up  son  became  insensible  while  attempt- 
ing the  first  verse  of  'Willie  brewed  a  peck  o'  maut;' 
:ind  he  having  been,  for  half  an  hour  before,  the  only 
other  man  visible  above  the  mahogany,  it  occurred  to 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


301 


my  uncle  that  it  was  almost  time  to  think  about  going: 
especially  as  drinking  had  set  in  at  seven  o'clock,  in 
order  that  he  might  get  home  at  a  decent  hour.  But, 
thinking  it  might  not  be  quite  polite  to  go  just  then,  my 
uncle  voted  himself  into  the  chair,  mixed  another  glass, 
rose  to  propose  his  own  health,  addressed  himself  in  a 
neat  and  complimentary  speech,  and  drank  the  toast 
with  great  enthusiasm.  Still  nobody  woke;  so  my  uncle 
too  a  little  drop  more — neat  this  time,  to  prevent  the 
toddy  disagreeing  with  him — and^  laying  violent  hands 
on  his  hat,  sallied  forth  into  the  street. 

It  was  a  wild,  gusty  night  when  my  uncle  closed  the 
baillie's  door,  and  settling  his  hat  firmly  on  his  head, 
to  prevent  the  wind  from  taking  it,  thrust  his  hands 
into  his  pockets,  and  looking  upwards,  took  a  shoru 
survey  of  the  state  of  the  weather.  The  clouds  were 
drifting  over  the  moon  at  their  giddiest  speed:  atone 
time  wholly  obscuring  her:  at  another,  suffering  her 
to  burst  forth  in  full  splendour  and  shed  her  light  on 
all  the  objects  around:  anon,  driving  over  her  again, 
with  increased  velocity,  and  shrouding  everything  in 
darkness.  '  Really,  this  won't  do,'  said  my  uncle, 
addressing  himself  to  the  weather,  as  if  he  felt  himself 
personally  offended.  ^This  is  not  at  all  the  kind  of 
thing  for  my  voyage.  It  will  not  do  at  any  price,'  said 
my  uncle,  very  impressively.  Having  repeated  this 
several  times,  he  recovered  his  balance  with  some  diffi- 
culty— for  he  was  rather  giddy  with  looking  lip  into  the 
sky  so  long — and  walked  merrily  on. 

*'The  baillie's  house  was  in  the  Canongate,  and  'my 
uncle  was  going  to  the  other  end  of  Leith  Walk,  rather 
better  than  a  mile's  journey.  On  either  side  of  him 
there  shot  up  against  the  dark  sky  tall,  gaunt,  straggling 
houses,  with  time-stained  fronts,  and  windows  that 
seemed  to  have  shared  the  lot  of  eyes  in  mortals,  and 
to  have  grown  dim  and  sunken  with  age.  Six,  seven, 
eight  stories  high,  were  the  houses;  story  piled  above 
story,  as  children  l)uild  with  cards — throwing  their  dark 
shadows  over  the  roughly  paved  road,  and  making  tlie 
dark  night  darker.  A  few  oil  lamps  were  scattered  at 
long  distances,  but  they  only  served  to  mark  the  dirty 
entrance  to  some  narrow  close,  or  to  show  where  a  com- 
mon stair  communicated,by  steep  and  intricate  windings, 
with  the  various  flats  above.    Glancing  at  all  thes^ 


302 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


things  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  seen  them  too 
often  before,  to  think  them  worthy  of  much  notice  noAv, 
my  uncle  walked  up  the  middle  of  the  street,  with  a 
thumb  in  each  waistcoat  pocket,  indulging  from  time  to 
time  in  various  snatches  of  song,  chaunted  forth  with 
such  good  will  and  spirit,  that  the  quiet  honest  folk 
started  from  their  first  sleep  and  lay  trembling  in  bed 
till  the  sound  died  away  in  the  distance;  when,  satisfy- 
ing themselves  that  it  was  only  some  drunken  ne'er-do- 
well  finding  his  way  home,  they  covered  themselves  up 
warm  and  fell  asleep  again. 

"  I  am  particular  in  describing  how  my  uncle  walked 
up  the  middle  of  the  street,  with  his  thumbs  in  bis  waist- 
coat pockets,  gentlemen,  because,  as  he  often  used  to 
say  (and  with  great  reason,  too),  there  is  nothing  at  all 
extraordinary  in  this  story,  unless  you  distinctly  under- 
stand at  the  beginning  that  he  was  not  by  any  means  of 
a  marvellous  or  romantic  turn. 

Gentlemen,  my  uncle  walked  on  with  his  thumbs  in 
his  waistcoat  pockets,  taking  the  middle  of  the  street  to 
himself,  and  singing,  now  a  verse  of  a  love  song,  and 
then  a  verse  of  a  drinking  one,  and  when  he  was  tired 
of  both,  whistling  melodiously,  until  he  reached  the 
ISTorth  Bridge,  which,  at  this  point,  connects  the  old  and 
new  tov\7^ns  of  Edinburgh.  Here  he  stopped  for  a  minute, 
to  look  at  the  strange  irregular  clusters  of  lights  piled 
one  above  the  other,  and  twinkling  afar  off,  so  high  in 
the  air,  that  they  looked  like  stars,  gleaming  from  the 
castle  walls  on  the  one  side  and  the  Calton  Hill  on  the 
other,  as  if  they  illuminated  veritable  castles  in  the  air: 
while  the  old  picturesque  town  slept  heavily  on,  in 
gloom  and  darkness  below:  its  palace  and  chapel  of 
Holyrood,  guarded  day  and  night,  as  a  friend  of  my 
uncle's  used  to  say,  by  old  Arthur's  Seat,  tovf  ering,  surly 
and  dark,  like  some  gruff  genius,  over  the  ancient  city 
he  has  watched  so  long.  I  say,  gentlemen,  my  uncle 
stopped  here,  for  a  minute,  to  look  about  him;  and  then 
paying  a  compliment  to  the  weather,  which  had  a  little 
cleared  up,  though  the  m^oon  was  sinking,  Vv^alked  on 
again,  as  royally  as  before:  keeping  the  middle  of  the 
road  with  great  dignity,  and  looking  as  if  he  should 
very  much  like  to  meet  with  somebody  who  would  dis- 
pute possession  of  it  with  him.  There  was  nobody  at 
lill  disposed  to  contest  the  point,  as  it  happened;  and  so 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


on  he  went  with  his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat  pockets, 
like  a  lamb. 

When  my  uncle  reached  the  end  of  Leith  Walk,  he 
had  to  cross  a  pretty  large  piece  of  wasio  ground  which 
separated  him  from  a  short  street  which  he  had  to  turn 
down,  to  go  direct  to  his  lodgings.  I^o^v,  in  this  piece 
of  waste  ground  there  .was,  at  that  time,  an  inclosure 
belonging  to  some  wheel-wright,  who  contracted  with 
the  Post-office  for  the  purchase  of  old  worn-out  mail 
coaches;  and  my  uncle,  being  very  fond  of  coaches,  old, 
young,  or  middle-aged,  all  at  once  took  it  into  his  head 
to  step  out  of  liis  road  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  peep 
between  the  paling  at  these  maik:  about  a  dozen  of 
which  he  remembered  to  have  seen,  crowded  together 
in  a  very  forlorn  and  dismantled  state,  inside.  My  uncle 
was  a  very  enthusiastic,  emphatic  sort  of  person,  gentle- 
^  men;  so,  finding  that  he  could  not  obtain  a  good  peep 
between  the  palings,  he  got  over  them,  and  sitting  him- 
self quietly  down  on  an  old  axletree,  began  to  contem- 
plate the  mail  coaches  with  a  deal  of  gravity. 

"  There  might  be  a  dozen  of  them,  or  there  might  be 
more — my  uncle  was  never  quite  certain  on  this  point, 
and  being  a  man^of  very  scrupulous  veracity  about 
numbers,  didn't  like  to  say — but  there  they  stood,  all 
huddled  together  in  the  most  desolate  condition  imagin- 
able. The  doors  had  been  torn  from  their  hinges  and 
removed;  the  Imings  had  been  stripped  off:  only  a  shred 
hanging  here  and  there  by  a  rusty  nail;  the  lamps  had 
gone,  the  poles  had  long  since  vanished,  the  iron-work 
was  rusty,  the  paint  worn  away;  the  wind  whistled 
through  the  chints  in  the  bare  wood- work;  and  the  rain, 
which  had  collected  on  the  roofs,  fell,  drop  by  drop,  into 
the  insides  with  a  hollow  and  melancholy  sound.  They 
were  the  decaying  skeletons  of  departed  mails,  and  in 
that  lonely  place,  at  that  time  of  night,  they  looked  chili 
and  dismal. 

''My  uncle  rested  his  head  upon  his  hands,  and 
thought  of  the  busy,  bustling  people  who  had  rattled 
about,  years  before,  in  the  old  coaches,  and  were  now 
as  silent  and  changed;  he  thought  of  the  numbers  of 

Eeople  to  whom  one  of  those  crazy,  mouldering  vehicles 
ad  borne,  night  after  night,  for  many  years,  and 
through  all  weathers,  the  anxiously  expected  intelli- 
gence, the  eagerly  looked-for  remittance^  the  i)romised 


304  POSTHUMOUS  FAFERg  OF 


assurance  of  health  and  safety,  the  sudden  announce^ 
ment  of  sickness  and  death.  The  merchant,  the  lover^ 
the  wife,  the  widow,  the  mother,  the  school-boy,  the 
very  child  who  tottered  to  the  door  at  the  postman's 
knock — how  had  they  all  looked  forward  to  the  arrival  of 
the  old  coach.    And  where  were  they  all  now! 

''Gentlemen,  my  uncle  used  ta  say  that  he  thought  all 
this  at  the  time,  but  I  rather  suspected  that  he  learnt  it 
out  of  some  book  afterwards,  for  he  distinctly  stated 
that  he  fell  into  a  kind  of  doze,  as  he  sat  on  the  old  axle- 
tree  looking  at  the  decayed  mail  coaches,  and  that  he 
was  suddenly  awakened  by  some  deep  church-bell  strik- 
ing two.  Now,  my  dear  uncle  was  never  a  f a.st  thinker, 
and  if  he  had  thought  all  these  things,  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain it  would  have  taken  him  till  full  half-past  two 
o'clock,  at  the  very  least.  I  am,  therefore,  decidely  of 
opinion,  gentlemen,  that  my  uncle  fell  into  a  kind  of 
doze,  without  having  thought  about  anything  at  all. 

''Be  this  as  it  may,  a  church-bell  struck  two.  My 
uncle  woke,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  jumped  up  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"  In  one  instant,  after  the  clock  struck  two,  the  whole 
of  this  deserted  and  quiet  spot  had  become  a  scene  of 
most  extraordinary  life  and  animation.  The  mail  coach 
doors  were  on  their  hinges,  the  lining  was  replaced,  the 
iron- work  was  as  good  as  new,  the  paint  was  restored, 
the  lamps  were  alight,  cushions  and  great-coats  were  on 
every  coach-box,  porters  were  thrusting  parcels  into 
every  boot,  guards  were  stowing  away  letter-bags, 
ostlers  were  dashing  pails  of  water  against  the  renovated 
wheels;  numbers  of  men  were  rushing  about,  fixing 
poles  into  every  coach;  passengers  arrived,  portman- 
teaus were  handed  up,  horses  were  put  to;  and,  in  short, 
it  was  perfectly  clear  that  every  mail  there  was  to  be  off 
directly.  Gentlemen,  my  uncle  opened  his  eyes  so  wide 
at  all  this  that,  to  the  very  last  moment  of  his  life,  he 
used  to  wonder  how  it  fell  out  that  he  had  ever  been  able 
to  shut  'em  again. 

"  '  Now,  then! '  said  a  voice,  as  my  uncle  felt  a  hand  on 
his  shoulder.  '  You're  booked  for  one  inside.  You'd 
better  get  in.' 

"  '/booked!'  said  my  uncle,  turning  round. 
^  Yes,  certainly.' 

^'My  uncle,  gentlemen,  could  say  nothing;  he  was  so 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


305 


very  much  astonished.  The  queerest  thing  of  all  was, 
that  although  there  was  such  a  crowd  of  persons,  and 
although  fresh  faces  were  pouring  in  every  moment, 
there  was  no  telling  where  they  came  from;  they  seemed 
to  start  up,  in  some  strange  manner,  from  the  ground, 
or  the  air,  and  disappear  in  the  same  way.  When  a 
porter  had  put  his  luggage  in  the  coach,  and  received 
his  fare,  he  turned  round  and  was  gone;  and  before  my 
uncle  had  well  begun  to  wonder  what  had  become  of 
him,  half-a-dozen  fresh  ones  started  up,  and  staggered 
along  under  the  weight  of  parcels  which  seemed  big 
enough  to  crush  them.  The  passengers  were  all  dressed 
so  oddly,  too — large,  broad-skirted  lace  coats  with  great 
cuffs  and  no  collars;  and  wigs,  gentlemen — great  formal 
wigs  with  a  tie  behind.  My  uncle  could  make  nothing 
of  it. 

"  '  J^ow,  are  you  going  to  get  in?  ^  said  the  person  who 
had  addressed  my  uncle  before.  He  was  dressed  as  a 
mail  guard,  with  a  wig  on  his  head  and  most  enormous 
cuffs  to  his  coat,  and  had  a  lantern  in  one  hand,  and  a 
huge  blunderbuss  in  the  other,  which  he  was  going  to 
stow  away  in  his  little  arm  chest.  'Are  you  going  to 
get  in,  Jack  Martin?'  said  the  guard,  holding  the  lan- 
tern to  my  uncle's  face. 

"  ^  Hallo  ! '  said  my  uncle,  falling  back  a  step  or  two. 
•  That's  familiar  ! ' 

"  '  It's  so  on  the  way-bill,'  replied  the  guard. 

"  '  Isn't  there  a  ''Mister"  before  it?'  said  my  uncle — 
for  he  felt,  gentlemen,  that  for  a  guard  he  didn't  know, 
to  call  him  Jack  Martin,  was  a  liberty  which  the  Post- 
office  wouldn't  have  sanctioned  if  they  had  known  it. 

"  'No,  there  is  not,'  rejoined  the  guard,  coolly. 

'"Is  the  fare  paid?'  inquired  my  uncle. 

"  '  Of  course  it  is,'  rejoined  the  guard. 

"'It  is,  is  it?'  said  my  uncle.  'Then  here  goes — 
which  coach  ?' 

"  '  This,'  said  the  guard,  pointing  to  an  old-fashioned 
Edinburgh  and  London  Mail,  which  had  the  steps  down, 
and  the  aoor  open.  '  Stop — here  are  the  other  passen- 
gers.   Let  them  get  in  first.' 

"As  the  guard  spoke,  there  all  at  once  appeared,  right 
in  front  of  my  uncle,  a  young  gentleman  in  a  powdered 
wig,  and  a  sky-blue  coat  trimmed  with  silver,  made  very 
full  and  broad  in  the  skirts,  v/hich  were  Jinod  with  buck- 


306 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ram.  Tiggin  and  Welps  were  in  the  printed  calico  and 
waistcoat  piece  line,  gentlemen,  so  my  uncle  knew  all 
the  materials  at  once.  He  wore  knee  breeches,  and  a 
kind  of  leggings  rolled  up,  over  his  silk  stockings,  and 
shoes  with  buckles;  he  had  ruffles  at  his  wrists,  a  three- 
cornered  hat  on  his  head,  and  a  long  taper  sword  by  his 
side.  The  flaps  of  liis  waistcoat  came  half  way  down 
his  thighs,  and  the  ends  of  his  cravat  reached  to  his 
waist.  He  stalked  gravely  to  the  coach-door,  pulled  off 
his  hat,  and  held  it  above  his  head  at  arm's  length  : 
cocking  his  little  finger  in  the  air  at  the  same  time,  as 
some  affected  people  do,  when  they  take  a  cup  of  tea. 
Then  he  drew  his  feet  together,  and  made  a  low,  grave 
bow,  and  then  put  out  his  left  hand.  My  uncle  was  just 
going  to  step  forward,  and  shake  it  heartily,  when  he  per- 
ceived that  these  attentions  were  directed,  not  towards 
him,  but  to  a  young  lady,  who  just  then  appeared 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  attired  in  an  old-fashioned  green 
velvet  dress,  with  a  long  waist  and  stomacher.  She 
had  no  bonnet  on  her  head,  gentlemen,  which  was  muf- 
fled in  a  black  silk  hood,  but  she  looked  round  for  an 
instant  as  she  prepared  to  get  into  the  coach,  and  such 
a  beautiful  face  as  she  discovered,  my  uncle  had  never 
seen — not  e  ven  in  a  picture.  She  got  into  the  coach, 
holding  up  hoi  dress  with  one  hand ;  and,  as  my  uncle 
always  said  with  a  round  oath,  w^hen  he  told  the  story, 
he  wouldn't  have  believed  it  possible  that  legs  and  feet 
could  have  been  brought  to  such  a  state  of  perfection 
unless  he  had  seen  them  with  his  own  eyes. 

But,  in  tnis  one  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  face,  my 
uncle  saw  tha,t  the  young  lady  had  cast  an  imploring 
look  upon  him,  and  that  she  appeared  terrified  and  dis- 
tressed. He  iicticed,  too,  that  the  young  fellow  in  the 
powdered  vrig.  notwithstanding  his  show  of  gallantry, 
which  was  ail  very  fine  and  grand,  clasped  her  tight  by 
the  wrist  when  she  got  in,  and  followed  himself  imme- 
diately afterwards.  An  uncomfortable  ill-looking  fellow 
in  a  close  brown  wig,  and  a  plum-coloured  suit,  wearing 
a  very  large  sword,  and  boots  up  to  his  hips,  belonged 
to  the  party;  and  when  he  sat  himself  down,  next  to  the 
young  lady,  who  shrank  into  a  corner  at  his  approach, 
my  uncle  was  confirmed  in  his  original  impression  that 
something  dark  and  mysterious  Vvas  going  forward,  or, 
cis  he  always  said  himself,  that  '  there  was  a  screw  loose 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.        ^  307 

somewhere.'  It's  quite  surprising  how  quickly  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  help  the  lady  at  any  peril,  if  she  needed 
help. 

'Death  and  lightning  !'  exclaimed  the  young  gentle- 
man, laying  his  hand  upon  his  sword,  as  my  uncle  en- 
tered the  coach. 

"  '  Blood  and  thunder  ! '  roared  the  other  gentleman. 
With  this,  he  whipped  out  his  sword,  and  made  a  lunge 
at  my  uncle  without  further  ceremony.  My  uncle  had 
no  weapon  about  him,  but  with  great  dexterity  he 
snatched  the  ill-looking  gentleman's  hat  from  his  head, 
and  receiving  the  point  of  his  sword  right  through  the 
crown,  squeezed  the  sides  together,  and  held  it  tight. 
.  "  '  Pink  him  behind  I '  cried  the  ill-looking  gentleman 
to  his  companion,  as  he  struggled  to  regain  his  sword. 

"  '  He  had  better  not,'  cried  my  uncle,  displaying  the 
heel  of  one  of  his  shoes  in  a  threatening  manner,  '  I'll 
kick  his  brains  out  if  he  has  any,  or  fracture  his  skull 
if  he  hasn't.'  Exerting  all  his  strength  at  this  moment, 
my  uncle  wrenched  the  ill-looking  man's  sword  from  his 
grasp,  and  flung  it  clean  out  of  the  coach  window:  upon 
which  the  younger  gentleman  vociferated  '  Death  and 
lightning  I'  again,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his 
sword,  in  a  very  fierce  manner,  but  didn't  draw  it. 
Perhaps,  gentlemen,  as  my  uncle  used  to  say,  with  a 
smile,  perhaps  he  was  afraid  of  alarming  the  lady. 

'•'Now,  gentlemen,'  said  my  uncle,  taking  his  seat 
deliberately.  '  I  don't  want  to  have  any  death,  with  or 
without  lightning,  in  a  lady's  presence,  and  we  have 
had  quite  blood  and  thundering  enough  for  one  journey; 
so.  if  you  please,  we'll  sit  in  our  places  like  quiet  in- 
sirles — here,  guard,  pick  up  that  gentleman's  carving- 
knife.' 

"As  quickly  as  my  uncle  said  the  words,  the  guard 
appeared  at  the  coach  window,  with  the  gentleman's 
sword  in  his  hand.  He  held  up  his  lantern  and  looked 
earnestly  in  my  uncle's  face,  as  lie  handed  it  in  :  when, 
by  its  light,  my  uncle  saw,  to  his  great  surprise,  that  an 
immense  crowd  of  mail  coach  guards  swarmed  round 
the  window  :  every  one  of  whom  had  his  eyes  earnestly 
.fixed  upon  him  too.  He  had  never  seen  such  a  sea  of 
white  faces,  and  red  bodies,  and  earnest  eyes,  in  all  his 
born  daj^s. 

"  'This  is  the  strangest  sort  of  thing  I  ever  had  any- 


308  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


thing  to  do  with/  thought  my  uncle — '  allow  me  to  re- 
turn you  your  hat,  sir/ 

"  The  ill-looking  gentleman  received  his  three-cor- 
nered hat  in  silence;  looked  at  the  hole  in  the  middle 
with  an  inquiring  air;  and  finally  stuck  it  on  the  top  of 
J  his  wig,  with  a  solemnity  the  effect  of  which  was  a  trifle 
\  impaired  by  his  sneezing  violently  at  the  moment,  and 
j  jerking  it  off  again. 

'All  right! '  cried  the  guard  with  the  lantern,  mount- 
ing into  his  little  seat  behind.  Away  they  went.  My 
uncle  peeped  out  of  the  coach-window  as  they  emerged 
from  the  yard,  and  observed  that  the  other  mails,  with 
coachmen,  guards,  horses,  and  passengers,  complete, 
were  driving  round  and  round  in  circles,  at  a  slow  trot 
of  about  five  miles  an  hour.  My  uncle  burnt  with  in- 
dignation, gentlemen.  As  a  commercial  man,  he  felt 
that  the  mail  bags  were  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  he 
resolved  to  memorialize  the  Post-office  on  the  subject, 
the  very  instant  he  reached  London. 

''At  present,  however,  his  thoughts  were  occupied 
with  the  young  lady,  who  sat  in  the  furthest  corner  of 
the  coach,  with  her  face  muffled  closely  in  her  hood:  the 
gentleman  with  the  sky-blue  coat  sitting  opposite  to  her: 
and  the  other  man  in  the  plum-coloured  suit,  by  her  side: 
and  both  watching  her  intently.  If  she  so  much  as  rus- 
tled the  folds  of  her  hood,  he  could  hear  the  ill-looking 
man  clap  his  hand  upon  his  sword,  and  could  tell  by  the 
other's  breathing  (it  was  so  dark  he  couldn't  see  his  face) 
that  he  was  looking  as  big  as  if  he  were  going  to  devour 
her  at  a  mouthful.  This  roused  my  uncle  more  and 
more,  and  he  resolved,  come  what  come  might,  to  see 
the  end  of  it.  He  had  a  great  admiration  for  brig'Tit 
eyes,  and  sweet  faces,  and  pretty  legs  and  feet;  in  short, 
he  was  fond  of  the  whole  sex.  It  runs  in  our  family, 
gentlemen — so  am  I. 

"  Many  were  the  devices  which  my  uncle  practiced  to 
attract  the  lady's  attention,  or,  at  all  events,  to  engage 
the  mysterious  gentlemen  in  conversation.  They  were  all 
in  vain  ;  the  gentlemen  wouldn't  talk,  and  the  lady 
didn't  dare.  He  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  coach  win- 
dow at  intervals,  and  bawled  out  to  know  why  they 
didn't  go  faster.  But  he  called  till  he  was  hoarse — no- 
body paid  the  least  attention  to  him.  He  leant  back 
in  the  coach,  and  thought  of  the  beautiful  face,  and  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  So9 

feet  and  legs.  This  answered  better.  It  whiled  away  the 
time,  and  kept  him  from  wondering  where  he  was  going, 
and  IciQw  it  was  he  found  himself  in  such  an  odd  situa- 
tion. Not  that  this  would  have  worried  him  much,  any- 
way— he  was  a  mighty  free-and-easy,  roving,  devil-may- 
care  sort  of  person,  was  my  uncle,  gentlemen. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  coach  stopped.  '  Hallo! '  said  my 
uncle,  'what's  in  the  wind  now  ?' 

'''Alight  here,'  said  the  guard,  letting  down  the 
steps. 

"  '  Here!'  cried  my  uncle. 
"  'Here,'  rejoined  the  guard. 
"  '  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,'  said  my  uncle. 
"'Very  well — then  stop  where  you  are/  said  the 
guard. 

"  '  I  will,'  said  my  uncle. 
"  '  Do,'  said  the  guard. 

"The  other  passengers  had  regarded  this  colloquy 
with  great  attention  ;  and^  finding  that  my  uncle  was 
determined  not  to  alight,  the  younger  man  squeezed 
past  him,  to  hand  the  lady  out.  At  this  moment,  the 
ill-looking  man  was  inspecting  the  hole  in  the  crown  of 
his  three-cornered  hat.  As  the  young  lady  brushed  past, 
she  dropped  one  of  her  gloves  into  my  uncle's  hand,  and 
softly  whispered,  with  her  lips  so  close  to  his  face  that 
he  felt  her  warm  breath  on  his  nose,  the  single  word 
'Help!'  Gentlemen,  my  uncle  leaped  out  of  the  coach, 
at  once,  with  such  violence  that  it  rocked  on  the  springs 
again. 

"'Oh!  you've  thought  better  of  it,  have  you?'  said 
the  guard,  when  he  saw  my  uncle  standing  on  the 
ground. 

"  My  uncle  looked  at  the  guard  for  a  few  seconds,  in 
some  doubt  whether  it  wouldn't  be  better  to  wrench  his 
blunderbuss  from  him,  fire  it  in  the  face  of  the  man  with 
the  big  sword,  knock  the  rest  of  the  company  over  the 
head  with  the  stock,  snatch  up  the  young  lady,  and  go 
off  in  the  smoke.  On  second  thoughts,  however,  he 
abandoned  this  plan,  as  being  a  shade  too  melodra- 
matic in  the  execution,  and  followed  the  two  mysterious 
men,  who,  keeping  the  lady  between  them,  were  now 
entering  an  old  house,  in  front  of  which  the  coach  had 
stopped.  They  turned  into  the  passage,  and  my  imcle 
followed. 


310  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Of  all  the  ruinous  and  desolate  places  my  uncle  had 
ever  beheld,  this  was  the  most  so.  It  looked  as  if  it  had 
once  been  a  large  house  of  entertainment;  but  the  roof 
had  fallen  in  in  many  places,  and  the  stairs  were  steep, 
rugged,  and  broken.  There  was  a  huge  fire-place  in  the 
room  into  which  they  walked,  and  the  chimney  was 
blackened  with  smoke ;  but  no  warm  blaze  lighted  it  lip 
now.  The  white,  feathery  dust  of  burnt  wood  was  still 
strewed  over  the  hearth,  but  the  stove  was  cold,  and  all 
was  dark  and  gloomy. 

'Well,'  said  my  uncle,  as  he  looked  about  him,  'a 
mail  travelling  at  the  rate  of  six  miles  and  a  half  an  hour, 
and  stopping  for  an  indefinite  time  at  such  a  hole  as  this, 
is  rather  an  irregular  sort  of  proceeding,  I  fancy.  This 
shall  be  made  known;  I'll  write  to  the  papers.' 

''My  uncle  said  this  in  a  pretty  loud  voice,  and  in  an 
open,  unreserved  sort  of  manner,  with  the  view  of  en- 
gaging the  two  strangers  in  conversation  if  he  could. 
But,  neither  of  them  took  any  more  notice  of  him  than 
v/hispering  to  each  other,  and  scowling  at  him  as  they 
did  so.  The  lady  was  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room, 
and  once  she  ventured  to  wave  her  hand,  as  if  beseech- 
ing my  uncle's  assistance. 

''At  length  the  two  strangers  advanced  a  little,  and 
the  conversation  began  in  earnest. 

"  'You  don't  know  this  is  a  private  room,  I  suppose, 
fellow?'  said  the  gentleman  in  sky-blue. 

"  '  No,  I  do  not,  fellow,'  rejoined  my  uncle.  '  Only  if 
this  is  a  private  room  specially  ordered  for  the  occasion, 
I  should  think  the  public  room  must  be  a  very  com- 
fortable one;'  with  this  my  uncle  sat  himself  down  in  a 
high-backed  chair,  and  took  such  accurate  measure  of 
the  gentleman,  with  his  eyes,  that  Tiggin  and  elps 
could  have  supplied  him  with  printed  calico  for  a  suit, 
and  not  an  inch  too  much  or  too  little,  from  that  estimate 
alone. 

"  'Quit  this  room,'  said  both  the  men  together,  grasp- 
ing their  swords. 

"  'Eh?'  said  my  uncle,  not  at  all  appearing  to  com- 
prehend their  meaning. 

"  '  Quit  the  room,  or  you  are  a  dead  man,'  said  the  ill- 
looking  fellow  with  the  large  sword,  drawing  it  at  the 
same  time  and  flourishing  it  in  the  air. 

"  'Down  with  him!'  cried  the  gentleman  in  sky-blue, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


311 


drawing  his  sword  also,  and  falling  back  two  or  three 
yards.   '  Down  with  him!'  The  lady  gave  a  long  scream. 

^^ISTow,  my  uncle  was  always  remarkable  for  great 
boldness,  and  great  presence  of  mind.  All  the  time  that 
he  had  appeared  so  indifferent  to  what  was  going  on,  he 
had  been  looking  slyly  about  for  some  missile  or  weapon 
of  defence,  and,  at  the  very  instant  when  the  swords 
were  drawn;  he  espied,  standing  in  the  chimney  corner, 
an  old  basket-hilted  rapier  in  a  rusty  scabbard.  At  one 
bound,  my  uncle  caught  it  in  his  hand,  drew  it, 
flourished  it  gallantly  above  his  head,  called  aloud  to 
the  lady  to  keep  out  of  the  way,  hurled  the  chair  at  the 
man  in  sky-blue,  and  the  scabbard  at  the  man  in  plum- 
colour,  and,  taking  advantage  of  the  confusion,  fell 
upon  them  both,  pell-mell. 

''Gentlemen,  there  is  an  old  story — none  the  worse 
for  being  true — regarding  a  fine  young  Irish  gentleman, 
who  being  asked  if  he  could  play  the  fiddle,  replied  he  had 
no  doubt  he  could,  but  he  couldn't  exactly  say,  for  certain, 
because  he  had  never  tried.  This  is  not  inapplicable  to 
my  uncle  and  his  fencing.  He  had  never  had  a  sword 
in  his  hand  before  except  once  when  he  played  Richard 
the  Third  at  a  private  theatre:  upon  which  occasion  it 
was  arranged  with  Richmond  that  he  was  to  be  run 
through,  from  behind,  without  showing  fight  at  all;  but 
here  he  was,  cutting  and  slashing  with  two  experienced 
swordsmen,  thrusting,  and  guarding,  and  poking,  and 
slicing,  and  acquitting  himself  in  the  most  manful  and 
dexterous  manner  possible,  although  up  to  that  time  he 
had  never  been  aware  that  he  had  the  least  notion  of 
the  science.  It  only  shows  how  true  the  old  saying  is, 
that  a  man  never  knows  what  he  can  do  till  he  tries, 
gentlemen. 

'•The  noise  of  the  combat  was  terrific;  each  of  the 
three  combatants  swearing  like  troopers,  and  their 
swords  clashing  with  as  much  noise  as  if  all  the  knives 
and  steels  in  Newport  market  were  rattling  together  at 
the  same  time.  When  it  was  at  its  very  lieiglit,  the 
lady,  to  encourage  my  uncle,  most  probably,  withdrew 
licr  Ixood  entirely  from  her  face  and  disclosed  a  coun- 
tenance of  such  dazzling  beauty  that  he  would  have 
fought  against  fifty  men,  to  win  one  smile  from  it,  and 
die.  He  had  done  wonders  before,  but  now  he  began, 
to  powder  away  like  a  raving  mad  giant. 


312 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


At  this  very  moment  the  gentleman  in  sky-blue, 
turning  round,  and  seeing  the  young  lady  with  her 
face  uncovered,  vented  an  exclamation  or  rage  and 
jealousy;  and  turning  his  weapon  against  her  beautiful 
bosom,  pointed  a  thrust  at  her  heart,  which  caused  my 
uncle  to  utter  a  cry  of  apprehension  that  made  the 
building  ring.  The  lady  stepped  lightly  aside,  and 
snatching  the  young  man's  sword  from  his  hand,  be- 
fore he  had  recovered  his  balance,  drove  him  to  the 
wall,  and  running  it  through  him  and  the  panelling  up 
to  the  very  hilt,  pinned  him  there  hard  and  fast.  It  was 
a  splendid  example.  My  uncle,  with  a  loud  shout  of 
triumph  and  a  strength  that  was  irresistible,  made  his 
adversary  retreat  in  the  same  direction,  and  plunging 
the  old  rapier  into  the  very  centre  of  a  large  red  flower 
in  the  pattern  of  his  waiscoat,  nailed  him  beside  his 
friend;  there  they  both  stood,  gentlemen,  jerking  their 
arms  and  legs  about,  in  agony,  like  the  toy-shop  figures 
that  are  moved  by  a  piece  of  packthread.  My  uncle 
always  said  afterwards  that  this  was  one  of  the  surest 
means  he  knew  of  for  disposing  of  an  enemy;  but  it 
was  liable  to  one  objection  on  the  ground  of  expense, 
inasmuch  as  it  involved  the  loss  of  a  sword  for  every 
man  disabled. 

^^^The  mail,  the  mail!'^  cried  the  lady,  running  up 
to  my  uncle  and  throwing  her  beautiful  arms  around  his 
neck;  '  we  may  yet  escape.' 

"'May!  cried  my  uncle;  ^why,  my  dear,  there's 
nobody  else  to  kill,  is  there  ? '  My  uncle  was  rather 
disappointed,  gentlemen,  for  he  thought  a  little  quiet 
bit  of  love-making  would  be  very  agreeable  after 
the  slaughtering,  if  it  w^ere  only  to  change  the 
subject. 

"  '  We  have  not  an  instant  to  lose  here,'  said  the 
young  lady.  '  He  (pointing  to  the  young  gentleman  in 
sky-blue)  is  the  only  son  of  the  powerful  Marquess  of 
Fiiletoville.' 

"  ^  Well,  then,  my  dear,  I'm  afraid  he'll  never  come 
to  the  title,'  said  my  uncle,  looking  coolly  at  the  young 
gentleman,  as  he  stood  fixed  up  against  the  wall  in  the 
cockshafer  fashion  I  have  described.  ^You  have  cut 
off  the  entail,  my  love.^ 

"  '1  have  been  torn  from  my  home  and  friends  by 
these  villains,'  said  the  young  lady,  her  features  glowing 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


313 


with  indignation.  ^  That  wretch  would  have  married 
me  by  violence  in  another  hour.' 

"  Confound  his  impudence  I '  said  my  uncle,  bestow- 
ing a  very  contemptuous  look  on  the  dying  heir  of  Fil- 
letoville. 

"  '  As  you  may  guess  from  what  you  have  seen,'  said 
the  young  lady,  '  the  party  were  prepared  to  murder  me 
if  I  appealed  to  any  one  for  assistance.  If  their  ac- 
complices find  us  here,  we  are  lost.  Two  minutes  hence 
may  be  too  late.  The  mail  ! ' — with  these  words,  over- 
powered by  her  feelings  and  the  exertion  of  sticking 
the  young  Marquess  of  Filletoville,  she  sunk  into  my 
uncle's  arms.  My  uncle  caught  her  up  and  bore  her  to 
the  house-door.  There  stood  the  mail,  with  four  long- 
tailed,  fiowing-maned,  black  horses,  ready  harnessed; 
but  no  coachman,  no  guard,  no  ostler  even,  at  the 
horses'  heads. 

'^Gentlemen,  I  hope  I  do  no  injustice  to  my  uncle's 
memory  when  I  express  my  opinion  that,  although  he 
was  a  bachelor,  he  had  held  some  ladies  in  his  arms 
before  this  time;  I  believe,  indeed,  that  he  had  rather  a 
habit  of  kissing  barmaids,  and  I  know  that  in  one  or 
two  instances  he  had  been  seen  to  hug  a  landlady  in  a 
very  perceptible  manner.  I  mention  the  circumstance 
to  show  what  a  very  uncommon  sort  of  person  this 
beautiful  young  lady  must  have  been,  to  have  affected 
my  uncle  in  the  way  she  did;  he  used  to  say  that  as 
her  long,  dark  hair  trailed  over  his  arm,  and  her  beauti- 
ful dark  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  his  face  when  she 
recovered,  he  felt  so  strange  and  nervous  that  his  legs 
trembled  beneath  him.  But  who  can  look  in  a  sweet, 
soft  pair  of  dark  eyes  without  feeling  queer  ?  /  can't, 
gentlemen.  I  am  afraid  to  look  at  some  eyes  I  know, 
and  that's  the  truth  of  it. 

'  You  will  never  leave  me,'  murmured  the  young 
lady. 

'Never,'  said  my  uncle.    And  he  meant  it,  too. 

'  My  dear  preserver! '  exclaimed  the  young  lady.  '  My 
dear,  kind,  brave  preserver! ' 

'  Don't/  said  my  uncle,  interrupting  her. 
"  '  Why? '  inquired  the  young  lady. 

'Because  your  mouth  looks  so  beautiful  when  you 
speak,'  rejoined  my  uncle,  '  that  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be 
rude  enough  to  kiss  it.' 


;JU  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


The  young  lady  put  up  her  hand  as  if  to  caution  my 
uncle  not  to  do  so,  and  said — no,  she  didn't  say  anything 
— she  smiled.  When  you  are  looking  at  a  pair  of  the 
most  delicious  lips  in  the  world,  and  see  them  gently 
break  into  a  roguish  smile — if  you  are  very  near  them, 
and  nobody  else  by — you  cannot  better  testify  your  ad- 
miration of  their  beautiful  form  and  colour  than  by  kiss- 
ing them  at  once.  My  uncle  did  so,  and  I  honour  him 
for  it. 

"  'Hark!'  cried  the  young  lady,  starting.  ^The  noise 
of  wheels  and  horses!' 

'  So  it  is/  said  my  uncle,  listening.  He  had  a  good 
ear  for  wheels,  and  the  trampling  of  hoofs;  but  there 
appeared  to  be  so  many  horses  and  carriages  rattling 
towards  them,  from  a  distance,  that  it  was  impossible  to 
form  a  guess  at  their  number.  The  sound  was  like  that 
of  fifty  breaks,  with  six  blood  cattle  in  each. 

"•'We  are  pursued!'  cried  the  young  lady,  clasping 
her  hands.  '  We  are  pursued.  I  have  no  hope  but  in 
you! ' 

"  There  was  such  an  expression  of  terror  in  her  beau- 
tiful face  that  my  uncle  made  up  his  mind  at  once.  He 
lifted  her  into  the  coach,  told  her  not  to  be  frightened, 
pressed  his  lips  to  hers  once  more,  and  then  adWsing 
her  to  draw  up  the  window  to  keep  the  cold  air  out, 
mounted  the  box. 

"  '  Stay,  love,'  cried  the  young  lady. 

'' '  What's  the  matter? '  said  my  uncle  from  the  coach- 
box. 

"  '1  want  to  speak  to  you,'  said  the  young  lady;  '  only 
a  word — only  one  word,  dearest.' 

'''Must  I  get  down?'  inquired  my  uncle.  The  lady 
made  no  answer,  but  she  smiled  again.  Such  a  smile, 
gentlemen! — it  beat  the  other  one  all  to  nothing.  My 
uncle  descended  from  his  perch  in  a  twinkling. 

"  'What  is  it,  my  dear?'  said  my  uncle,  looking  in  at 
the  coach  window.  The  lady  happened  to  bend  forward 
at  the  same  time,  and  my  uncle  thought  she  looked  more 
beautiful  than  she  had  done  yet.  He  was  very  close  to 
her  just  then,  gentlemen,  so  he  really  ought  to  know. 

"  '  What  is  it,  my  dear?'  said  my  uncle. 

"  '  Will  you  never  love  any  one  but  me — never  marry 
any  one  besides?'  said  the  young  lady. 

"  My  uncle  swore  a  great  oath  that  he  never  would 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


315 


marry  anybody  else,  and  the  young  lady  drew  in  her 
head,  and  pulled  up  the  window.  He  jumped  upon  the 
box,  squared  his  elbows,  adjusted  the  ribands,  seized  the 
whip  which  lay  on  the  roof,  gave  one  flick  to  the  off 
leader,  and  away  went  the  four  long-tailed,  flowing- 
maned,  black  horses,  at  fifteen  good  English  miles  an 
hour,  with  the  old  mail  coach  behind  them — whew !  how 
they  tore  along! 

The  noise  behind  grew  louder.  The  faster  the  old 
mail  coach  went,  the  faster  came  the  pursuers — men, 
horses,  dogs,  were  leagued  in  the  pursuit.  The  noise  was 
frightful,  but,  above  all,  rose  the  voice  of  the  young  lady, 
urging  my  uncle  on,  and  shrieking  'Faster!  faster! ' 

They  whirled  past  the  dark  trees,  as  feathers  would 
be  swept  before  a  hurricane.  Houses,  gates,  churches, 
haystacks,  objects  of  every  kind  they  shot  by,  with  a 
velocity  and  noise  like  roaring  waters  suddenly  let 
loose.  Still  the  noise  of  pursuit  grew  louder,  and  still 
my  uncle  could  hear  the  young  lady  wildly  screaming 
*  Faster!  faster! ' 

My  uncle  plied  whip  and  rein;  and  the  horses  flew 
onward  till  they  were  white  with  foam;  and  yet  the 
noise  behind  increased;  and  yet  the  young  lady  cried 
•Faster!  faster!'  My  uncle  gave  a  loud  stamp  on  the 
boot  in  the  energy  of  the  moment,  and — found  that  it 
was  grey  morning,  and  he  was  sitting  in  the  wheel- 
wright's yard,  on  the  box  of  an  old  Edinburgh  mail, 
siiivering  with  the  cold  and  wet,  and  stamping  his  feet 
to  warm  them!  He  got  down,  and  looked  eagerly  in- 
side for  the  beautiful  young  lady — alas!  there  was 
neither  door  nor  seat  to  the  coach — it  was  a  mere  shell. 

"  Of  course,  my  uncle  knew  very  well  that  there  was 
some  mystery  in  the  matter,  and  that  everything  had 
passed  exactly  as  he  used  to  relate  it.  He  remained 
staunch  to  the  great  oath  he  had  sworn  to  the  beautiful 
young  lady:  refusing  several  eligible  landladies  on  her 
account,  and  dying  a  bachelor  at  last.  He  always  said, 
what  a  curious  thing  it  was  that  he  should  have  found 
out,  by  such  a  mere  accident  as  his  clambering  over  tlie 
palings,  that  the  ghosts  of  mail  coaches  and  horses, 
guards,  coachmen,  and  passengers,  were  in  the  habit  of 
making  journeys  regularly  every  night ;  he  used  to  add 
that  he  believed  he  was  the  only  living  person  who  had 
ever  been  taken  as  a  passenger  on  one  of  these  excur- 


316 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


sions;  and  I  think  he  was  right,  gentlemen — at  least  I 
never  heard  of  any  other." 


I  wonder  what  these  ghosts  of  mail-coaches  carry  in 
their  bags,"  said  the  landlord,  who  had  listened  to  the 
whole  story  with  fjro found  attention. 

''The  dead  letters,  of  course,"  said  the  Bagman. 

''Oh,  ah — to  be  sure,"  rejoined  the  landlord.  "I 
never  thought  of  that." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HOW  MR.  PICKWICK  SPED  UPON  HIS  MISSION,  AND  HOW  HE 
WAS  REINFORCED  IN  THE  OUTSET  BY  A  MOST  UNEX- 
PECTED AUXILIARY. 

The  horses  were  put  to  punctually  at  a  quarter  before 
nine  next  morning,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller 
having  each  taken  his  seat,  the  one  inside,  and  the  other 
out,  the  postilion  was  duly  directed  to  repair  in  the  first 
instance  to  Mr.  Bob  Sawyers  house,  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  up  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  no  small  astonishment,  when 
the  carriage  drew  up  before  the  door  with  the  red  lamp, 
and  the  very  legible  inscription  of  "Sawyer,  late  Nockem- 
orf,"  that  Mr.  Pickwick  saw,  on  popping  his  head  out 
of  the  coach  window,  the  boy  in  the  grey  livery  very 
busily  employed  in  putting  up  the  shutters :  the  which 
being  an  unusual  and  unbusiness-like  proceeding  at 
that  hour  of  the  morning,  at  once  suggested  to  his  mind 
two  inferences — the  one,  that  some  good  friend  and  pa- 
tient of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  was  dead;  and  the  other,  that 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  himself  was  bankrupt. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  the  boy. 

"  Nothing's  the  matter,  sir,"  replied  the  boy,  expand- 
ing his  mouth  to  the  whole  breadth  of  his  countenance. 

"All  right,  all  right!"  cried  Bob  Sawyer,  suddenly 
appearing  at  the  door,  with  a  small  leathern  knapsack, 
limp  and  dirty,  in  one  hand,  and  a  rough  coat  and  shawl 
thrown  over  the  other  arm.    "  I'm  going,  old  fellow." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


317 


You  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Yes,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  and  a  regular  expedition 
we'll  make  of  it.  Here,  Sam — look  out ! "  Thus  briefly 
bespeaking  Mr.  Weller's  attention,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
jerked  the  leathern  knapsack  into  the  dickey,  where  it 
was  immediately  stowed  away  under  the  seat  by  Sam, 
who  regarded  the  proceeding  with  great  admiration. 
This  done,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  the  assistance  of  the 
boy.  forcibly  worked  himself  into  the  rough  coat,  which 
was  a  few  sizes  too  small  for  him,  and  then  advancing 
to  the  coach-window,  thrust  in  his  haad,  and  laughed 
boisterously. 

''What  a  start  it  is — isn't  it?"  cried  Bob,  wiping  the 
tears  out  of  his  eyes  with  one  of  the  cuffs  of  the  rough 
coat. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  some  embar- 
rassment, ''I  had  no  idea  of  your  accompanying  us." 

''No,  that's  just  the  very  thing,"  replied  Bob,  seizing 
Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  lappel  of  his  coat.  "That's  the 
joke." 

"Oh,  that's  the  joke?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Bob.  "It's  the  whole  point  of 
the  thing,  you  know — that,  and  leaving  the  business  to 
take  care  of  itself,  as  it  seems  to  have  made  up  its 
mind  not  to  take  care  of  me."  With  this  explanation 
of  the  phenomenon  of  the  shutters,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
pointed  to  the  shop,  and  relapsed  into  an  ecstasy  of 
mirth. 

"Bless  me,  you  are  surely  not  mad  enough  to  think 
of  leaving  your  patients  without  anybody  to  attend 
them!"  remonstrated  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  very  serious 
tone. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Bob,  in  reply.  "  I^  shall  save  by 
it,  you  know.  None  of  them  ever  f)ay.  '  Besides,"  said 
Bod,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper,  "  they 
will  be  all  the  better  for  it;  for,  being  nearly  out  of 
drugs,  and  not  able  to  increase  my  account  just  now,  I 
should  have  been  obliged  to  give  tliem  calomel  all 
round,  and  it  would  have  been  certain  to  have  disagreed 
with  some  of  them — so  it's  all  for  the  best." 

There  was  a  f)hilosophy,  and  a  strength  of  reasoning, 
about  this  reply,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  prepared 
for.  He  paused  a  few  moments,  and  added,  less  nrmly 
than  before: 


318  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''But  this  chaise,  my  young  friend — this  chaise  will 
only  hold  two;  and  I  am  pledged  to  Mr.  Allen." 

Don't  think  of  me  for  a  minute,"  replied  Bob.  ''  I've 
arranged  it  all;  Sam  and  I  will  share  the  dickey  between 
us.  Look  here.  This  little  bill  is  to  be  wafered  on  the 
shop-door:  '  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf .  Enquire  of  Mrs. 
Cripps  over  the  way.'  Mrs.  Cripps  is  my  boy's  mother. 
'Mr.  Sawyer's  very  sorry,' says  Mrs.  Cripps,  'couldn't 
help  it — fetched  away  early  this  morning  to  a  consulta- 
tion of  the  very  first  surgeons v in  the  country — couldn't 
do  without  him — would  have  him  at  any  price — tremen- 
dous operation.'  The  fact  is,"  said  Bob,  in  conclusion, 
"it'll  do  me  more  good  than  otherwise,  I  expect.  If  it 
gets  into  one  of  the  local  papers,  it  will  be  the  making 
of  me.    Here's  Ben^ — now  then,  jump  in!" 

With  these  hurried  words,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  pushed 
the  postboy  on  one  side,  jerked  his  friend  into  the 
vehicle,  slammed  the  door,  put  up  the  steps,  wafered 
the  bill  on  the  street-door,  locked  it,  put  the  key  in  his 
pocket,  jumped  into  the  dickey,  gave  the  word  for  start- 
ing; and  did  the  whole  with  such  extraordinary  precipi- 
tation that  before  Mr.  Pickwick  had  well  begun  to 
consider  w^hether  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ought  to  go  or  not, 
they  were  rolling  away,  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  thoroughly 
established  as  part  and  parcel  of  the  equipage. 

So  long  as  their  progress  was  confined  to  the  streets 
of  Bristol,  the  facetious  Bob  kept  his  professional  green 
spectacles  on,  and  conducted  himself  with  becoming 
steadiness  and  gravity  of  demeanour:  merely  giving 
utterance  to  divers  verbal  witticisms  for  the  exclusive 
behoof  and  entertainment  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller;  but 
when  they  emerged  on  the  open  road,  he  threw  off 
his  green  spectacles  and  his  gravity  together,  and 
performed  a  great  variety  of  practical  jokes,  which 
were  calculated  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  passers- 
by,  and  to  render  the  carriage,  and  those  it  contained, 
objects  of  more  than  ordinary  curiosity;  the  least  con- 
spicuous among  these  feats  being  a  most  vociferous  imi- 
tation of  a  key-bugle,  and  the  ostentatious  display  of  a 
crimson  silk  pocket-handkerchief  attached  to  a  walking- 
stick,  which  was  occasionally  waved  in  the  air  with 
various  gestures  indicative  of  supremacy  and  defiance. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  stopping  in  the  midst 
of  a  most  sedate  conversation  with  Ben  Allen,  bearing 


MR.  BOB  sawyer's  MODE  OF  TRAVELLING. 

Pickwick  Papers. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


319 


reference  to  the  numerous  good  qualities  of  Mr.  Winkle 
and  his  sister — "  I  wonder  what  all  the  people  we  pass 
can  see  in  us  to  make  them  stare  so?" 

''It's  a  neat  turn-out/'  replied  Ben  Allen,  with  some- 
thing of  pride  in  his  tone.  They're  not  used  to  see  this 
sort  of  thing  every  day,  I  dare  say." 

''Possibly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "It  may  be  so. 
Perhaps  it  is." 

Mr.  Pickwick  might  very  probably  have  reasoned 
himself  into  the  belief  that  it  really  was,  had  he  not, 
just  then  happening  to  look  out  of  the  coach  window, 
observed  that  the  looks  of  the  passengers  betokened  any- 
thing but  respectful  astonishment,  and  that  various 
telegraphic  communications  appeared  to  be  passing  be- 
tween them  and  some  persons  outside  the  vehicle: 
whereupon  it  occurred  to  him  that  these  demonstrations 
might  be,  in  some  remote  degree,  referable  to  the 
humourous  deportment  of  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  our  volatile  frifend 
is  committing  no  absurdities  in  that  dickey  behind." 

•'  Oh,  dear  no,"  replied  Ben  Allen.  "  Except  when  he's 
elevated,  Bob's  the  quietest  creature  breathing." 

Here  a  prolonged  imitation  of  a  key-bugle  broke  upon 
the  ear,  succeeded  by  cheers  and  screams,  all  of  which 
evidently  proceeded  from  the  throat  and  lungs  of  the 
quietest  creature  breathing,  or,  in  plainer  designation, 
of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  himself. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  looked  expressively 
at  each  other,  and  the  former  gentleman  taking  off  his 
hat,  and  leaning  out  of  the  coach  window  until  nearly 
the  whole  of  his  waistcoat  was  outside  it,  was  at  length 
enabled  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  facetious  friend. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  seated,  not  in  the  dickey,  but  on 
the  roof  of  the  chaise,  with  \\\^^  legs  asunder  as  far  as 
they  would  conveniently  go,  wearing  Mr.  Samuel  Wel- 
ler's  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  and  bearing,  in  one 
hand,  a  most  enormous  sandwich,  while  in  the  other  he 
supported  a  goodly-sized  case-bottle,  to  both  of  which  he 
apphed  himself  with  intense  relish:  varying  the  mo- 
notony of  the  occupation  by  an  occasional  howl,  or  the 


stranger.  The  crimson  flag  was  carefully  tied  in  an 
erect  position  to  the  rail  of  the  dickey;  and  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  decorated  with  Bol)  Sawyer's  hat,  was  seated  in 


badinage 


320  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


the  centre  thereof,  discussing  a  twin  sandwich  with  an 
animated  countenance;  the  expression  of  which  be- 
tokened his  entire  and  perfect  approval  of  the  whole  ar- 
rangement. 

This  was  enough  to  irritate  a  gentleman  with  Mr. 
Pickwick's  sense  of  propriety,  but  it  was  not  the  whole 
extent  of  the  aggravation,  for  a  stage-coach  full,  inside 
and  out,  was  meeting  them  at  the  moment,  and  the  as- 
tonishment of  the  passengers  was  very  palpably  evinced. 
The  congratulations  of  an  Irish  family,  too,  who  were 
keeping  up  with  the  chaise,  and  begging  all  the  time, 
were  of  a  rather  boisterous  description;  especially  those 
of  its  male  head,  who  appeared  to  consider  the  display 
as  part  and  parcel  of  some  political  or  other  procession 
of  triumph. 

'^Mr.  Sawyer!"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement.      Mr.  Sawyer,  sir!" 

Hallo!"  responded  that  gentleman,  looking  over  the 
side  of  the  chaise  with  all  the  coolness  in  life. 
Are  you  mad,  sir?"  demanded  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Bob,  "  only  cheerful." 
Cheerful,  sir!"  ejaculated  Mr.   Pickwick.  "Take 
down  that  scandalous  red  handkerchief,  I  beg.    I  insist, 
sir.    Sam,  take  it  down." 

Before  Sam  could  interpose,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  grace- 
fully struck  his  colours,  and  having  put  them  in  his 
pocket,  nodded  in  a  courteous  manner  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
wiped  the  mouth  of  the  case-bottle,  and  applied  it  to  his 
own;  thereby  informing  him,  without  any  unnecessary 
waste  of  words,  that  he  devoted  that  draught  to  wishing 
him  all  manner  of  happiness  and  prosperity.  Having 
done  this,  Bob  replaced  the  cork  with  great  care,  and 
looking  benignantly  down  on  Mr.  Pickwick,  took  a  large 
bite  out  of  the  sandwictL  and  smiled. 

'^Come,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  momentary  anger 
was  not  quite  proof  against  Bob's  immovable  self-pos- 
session,   pray  let  us  have  no  more  of  this  absurdity." 

"No,  no,"  replied  Bob,  once  more  exchanging  hats 
with  Mr.  Weller;  "I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  only  I  got  so 
enlivened  with  the  ride  that  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"Think  of  the  look  of  the  thing,"  expostulated  Mr. 
Pickwick;  "  have  some  regard  to  appearances." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Bob,  "  it's  not  the  sort  ot  thing 
at  alL    All  over,  governor." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


321 


Satisfied  with  tliis  assurance,  Mr.  Pickwick  once  more 
drew  liis  head  into  tlie  chaise  and  pulled  up  the  glass; 
but  he  had  scarcely  resumed  the  conversation  which  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  had  interrupted,  when  he  was  somewhat 
startled  by  the  apparition  of  a  small  dark  body,  of 
oblong  form,  on  the  outside  of  the  window,  which 
gave  sundry  taps  against  it,  as  if  impatient  of  admis- 
sion. 

"  What's  this?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 
It  looks  like  a  case-bottle,"  remarked  Ben  Allen,  eye- 
ing the  object  in  question  through  his  spectacles  with 
some  interest;     I  rather  think  it  belongs  to  Bob." 

The  impression  was  perfectly  accurate;  for  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  having  attached  the  case-bottle  to  the  end  of  the 
walking-stick,  was  battering  the  window  with  it,  in  a 
token  of  his  wish  that  his  friends  inside  would  partake 
of  its  contents,  in  all  good  fellowship  and  harmony. 

''  What's  to  be  done?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at 
the  bottle.  ''This  proceeding  is  more  absurd  than  the 
other." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  best  to  take  it  in,"  replied  Mr. 
Ben  Allen;  "  it  would  serve  him  right  to  take  it  in  and 
keep  it,  wouldn't  it?" 

"It  would,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  ''shall  I?" 

"I  think  it  the  most  proper  course  we  could  possibly 
adopt,"  replied  Ben. 

This  advice  quite  coinciding  with  his  own  opinion,  Mr. 
Pickwick  gently  let  down  the  window  and  disengaged 
the  bottle  from  the  stick;  upon  which  the  latter  was 
drawn  up,  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  heard  to  laugh 
heartily. 

"What  a  merry  dog  it  is!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  look- 
ing round  at  his  companion,  with  the  bottle  in  his  hand. 
"He  is,"  said  Mr.  Allen. 

"You  cannot  possibly  be  angry  with  him,"  remarked 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Quite  out  of  the  question,"  observed  Benjamin 
Allen. 

During  this  short  interchange  of  sentiments,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had,  in  an  abstracted  mood,  uncorked  the  bottle. 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  Ben  Allen,  carelessly. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  equal 
carelessness.    "  It  smells,  I  think,  like  milk-punch." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  Ben. 


323  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


'^I  think  so/' rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  very  properly 
guarding  himself  against  the  possibility  of  stating  an 
untruth;  ''mind,  I  could  not  undertake  to  say  certainly 
without  tasting  it." 

''You  had  better  do  so,"  said  Ben;  "we  may  as  well 
know  what  it  is." 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Well, 
if  you  are  curious  to  know,  of  course  I  have  no  objec- 
tion." 

Ever  willing  to  sacrifice  his  own  feelings  to  the  wishes 
of  his  friends,  Mr.  Pickwick  at  once  took  a  pretty  long 
taste. 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  Ben  Allen,  interrupting  him 
with  some  impatience. 

"Curious,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smacking  his  lips,  "I 
hardly  know,  now.  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
a  second  taste,  "  it  is  punch." 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick;  Mr.  Pickwick 
looked  at  Mr.  Ben  Allen;  Mr.  Ben  Allen  smiled;  Mr. 
Pickwick  did  not. 

"  It  would  serve  him  right,"  said  the  last-named  gen- 
tleman, with  some  severity,  "it  would  serve  him  right 
to  drink  it  every  drop." 

"  The  very  thing  that  occurred  to  me,"  said  Ben  Allen. 

"  Is  it,  indeed?"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Then  here's 
his  health."  With  these  words,  that  excellent  person 
took  a  most  energetic  pull  at  the  bottle,  and  handed  it 
to  Ben  Allen,  who  was  not  slow  to  imitate  his  example. 
The  smiles  became  mutual,  and  the  milk-punch  was 
gradually  and  cheerfully  disposed  of. 

"  After  all,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  drained  the  last 
drop,  "  his  pranks  are  really  very  amusing — very  enter- 
taining indeed." 

"You  may  say  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  In 
proof  of  Bob  Sawyer  being  one  of  the  funniest  fellows 
alive,  he  proceeded  to  entertain  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a 
long  and  circumstantial  account  how  that  gentleman 
once  drank  himself  into  a  fever  and  got  his  head  shaved; 
the  relation  of  which  pleasant  and  agreeable  history  was 
only  stopped  by  the  stoppage  of  the  chaise  at  the  Bell  at 
Berkeley  Heath,  to  change  horses. 

"  I  say,  we're  going  to  dine  here,  aren't  we?"  said  Bob, 
looking  in  at  the  window. 

"Dine!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "Why,  we  have  only 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


323 


come  nineteen  miles,  and  have  eighty-seven  and  a  half 
to  go." 

''Just  the  reason  why  we  should  take  something  to 
enable  us  to  bear  up  against  the  fatigue/'  remonstrated 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

''Oh,  it's  quite  impossible  to  dine  at  half-past  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  day,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  his 
watch. 

"So  it  is,"  rejoined  Bob,  "lunch  is  the  very  thing. 
Hallo,  you  sir!  Lunch  for  three,  directly,  and  keep  the 
horses  back  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Tell  them  to  put 
everything  they  have  cold,  on  the  table,  and  some  bottled 
ale — and  let  us  taste  your  very  best  Madeira."  Issuing 
these  orders  with  monstrous  importance  and  bustle,  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  at  once  hurried  into  the  house  to  superin- 
tend the  arrangements;  in  less  than  five  minutes  he  re- 
turned and  declared  them  to  be  excellent. 

The  quality  of  the  lunch  fully  justified  the  eulogium 
which  Bob  had  pronounced,  and  very  great  justice  was 
done  to  it,  not  only  by  that  gentleman,  but  Mr.  Ben 
Allen  and  Mr.  Pickwick  also.  Under  the  auspices  of 
the  three,  the  bottled  ale  and  the  Madeira  were  promptly 
disposed  of;  and  when  (the  horses  being  once  more  put 
to)  they  resumed  their  seats,  with  the  case-bottle  full  of 
the  best  substitute  for  milk-punch  that  could  be  procured 
on  so  short  a  notice,  the  key-bugle  sounded,  and  the  red 
flag  waved,  without  the  slightest  opposition  on  Mr. 
Pickwick's  part. 

At  the  Hop  Pole,  at  Tewkesbury,  they  stopped  to  dine; 
upon  which  occasion  there  was  more  bottled  ale,  with 
some  more  Maderia,  and  some  Port  besides;  and  here 
the  case-bottle  was  replenished  for  the  fourth  time. 
Under  the  influence  of  these  combined  stimulants,  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  fell  fast  asleep  for  thirty 
miles,  while  Bob  and  Mr.  Weller  sang  duets  in  the 
dickey. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  Mr.  Pickwick  roused  himself 
sufficiently  to  look  out  of  the  window.  The  straggling 
cottages  by  the  road-side,  the  dingy  hue  of  every  object 
visible,  the  murky  atmosphere,  the  paths  of  cinders  and 
brick-dust,  the  deep-red  glow  of  furnace  fires  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  volumes  of  dense  smoke  issuing  heavily  forth 
from  hi^h  toppling  chimneys,  blackening  and  obscuring 
everything  around,  the  glare  of  distant  lights,  the  pon- 


m  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


derous  wagons  which  toiled  along  the  road,  laden  with 
clashing  rods  of  iron,  or  piled  with  heavy  goods — all  be- 
tokened their  rapid  approach  to  the  great  working  town 
of  Birmingham. 

As  they  rattled  through  the  narrow  thoroughfares 
leading  to  the  heart  of  the  turmoil,  the  sights  and  sounds 
of  earnest  occupation  struck  more  forcibly  on  the  senses. 
The  streets  were  thronged  with  working-people.  The 
hum  of  labour  resounded  from  every  house;  lights 
gleamed  from  the  long  casement  windows  in  the  attic 
stories,  and  the  whirl  of  wheels  and  noise  of  machinery 
shook  the  trembling  walls.  The  fires,  whose  lurid,  sullen 
light  had  been  visible  for  miles,  blazed  fiercely  up,  in 
the  great  works  and  factories  of  the  town.  The  din  of 
hammers,  the  rushing  of  steam,  and  the  dead,  heavy 
clanking  of  the  engines,  was  the  harsh  music  which 
arose  from  every  quarter. 

The  postboy  was  driving  briskly  through  the  open 
streets,  and  past  the  handsome  and  well-lighted  shops 
which  intervene  between  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and 
the  Old  Royal  Hotel,  before  Mr.  Pickwick  had  begun  to 
consider  the  very  difficult  and  delicate  nature  of  the 
commission  which  had  carried  him  thither. 

The  delicate  nature  of  this  commission,  and  the  diffi- 
culty of  executing  it  in  a  satisfactory  manner,  were  by 
no  means  lessened  by  the  voluntary  companionship  of 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  Truth  to  tell,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  that 
his  presence  on  the  occasion,  however  considerate  and 
gratifying,  was  by  no  means  an  honour  he  would 
willingly  have  sought;  in  fact,  he  would  cheerfully 
have  given  a  reasonable  sum  of  money  to  have  had  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  removed  to  any  place  of  not  less  than  fifty 
miles'  distance,  without  delay. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  never  held  any  personal  communi- 
cation with  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  although  he  had  once 
or  twice  corresponded  with  him  by  letter,  and  returned 
satisfactory  answers  to  his  inquiries  concerning  the 
moral  character  and  behaviour  of  his  son;  he  felt  nerv- 
ously sensible  that  to  wait  upon  him,  for  the  first  time, 
attended  by  Bob  Sawyer  and  Ben  Allen,  both  slightly 
fuddled,  was  not  the  most  ingenious  and  likely  means 
that  could  have  been  hit  upon  to  prepossess  him  in  his 
favour. 

''However/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  endeavouring  to  re- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


325 


assure  himself,  I  must  do  the  best  I  can;  I  must  see 
him  to-night,  for  I  faithfully  promised  to  do  so;  and  if 
they  persist  in  accompanying  me,  I  must  make  the  in- 
terview as  brief  as  possible,  and  be  content  to  hope  that, 
for  their  own  sakes,  they  will  not  expose  themselves." 

As  he  comforted  himself  with  these  reflections,  the 
chaise  stopped  at  the  door  of -the  Old  Royal.  Ben  Allen 
having  been  partially  awakened  from  a  stupendous 
sleep,  and  dragged  out  by  the  collar  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  enabled  to  alight.  They 
were  shown  to  a  comfortable  apartment,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick at  once  propounded  a  question  to  the  waiter  con- 
cerning the  whereabout  of  Mr.  Winkle's  residence. 

Close  by,  sir,"  said  the  waiter,  "  not  above  five  hun- 
dred yards,  sir.  Mr.  Winkle  is  a  wharfinger,  sir,  at  the 
canal,  sir.  Private  residence  is  not — oh  dear  no,  sir, 
not  five  hundred  yards,  sir."  Here  the  waiter  blew  a 
candle  out,  and  made  a  feint  of  lighting  it  again,  in 
order  to  afford  Mr.  Pickwick  an  opportunity  of  asking 
any  further  questions  if  he  felt  so  disposed. 

''Take  anything  now,  sir?"  said  the  waiter,  lighting 
the  candle,  in  desperation  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  silence. 
"  Tea  or  coffee,  sir?  dinner,  sir?" 

'' Nothing  now." 

'"  Very  good,  sir.    Like  to  order  supper,  sir?" 
"  Not  just  now." 

"Very  good,  sir."  Here  he  walked  softly  to  the  door, 
and  then  stopping  short,  turned  round  and  said,  with 
great  suavity: 

"  Shall  I  send  the  chambermaid,  gentlemen?" 

"You  may  if  you  please,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"If  you  please,  sir." 

"And  bring  some  soda  water,"  said  Bob  Sawyer. 
"Soda  water,  sir?  Yes,  sir."   And  with  his  mind  ap- 


having  at  last  got  an  order  for  something,  the  waiter 
imperceptibly  melted  away.  Waiters  never  walk  or 
run.  They  have  a  peculiar  and  mysterious  power  of 
skimming  out  of  rooms,  which  other  mortals  possess  not. 

Some  slight  symptoms  of  vitality  having  been  awak-. 
ened  in  Mr.  Ben  Allen  by  the  soda  water,  he  suffered 
himself  to  be  prevailed  upon  to  wash  his  face  and  hands 
•and  to  submit  to  be  brushed  by  Sam.   Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Bob  Sawyer  having  also  Repaired  the  disorder  which  the 


overwhelming  weight  by 


326 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


journey  had  made  in  their  apparel,  the  three  started 
forth,  arm  in  arm,  to  Mr.  Winkle's;  Bob  Sawyer  impreg- 
nating the  atmosphere  with  tobacco  smoke  as  he  walked 
along. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  in  a  quiet,  substantial- 
looking  street,  stood  an  old  red-brick  house  with  threo 
steps  before  the  door,  and  a  brass  plate  upon  it,  bearing, 
in  fat  Roman  capitals,  the  words  "'Mr.  Winkle."  The 
steps  were  very  white,  and  the  bricks  were  very  red, 
and  the  house  was  very  clean;  and  here  stood  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  as  the 
clock  struck  ten. 

A  smart  servant  girl  answered  the  knock,  and  started 
on  beholding  the  three  strangers. 

Is  Mr.  Winkle  at  home,  my  dear?"  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  He  is  just  going  to  supper,  sir,"  replied  the  girl. 

''Give  him  that  card,  if  you  please,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. "  Say  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  him  at  so  late  an  hour; 
but  lam  anxious  to  see  him  to-night,  and  have  only  just 
arrived." 

The  girl  looked  timidly  at  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  was 
expressing  his  admiration  of  her  personal  charms  by  a 
variety  of  wonderful  grimaces;  and,  casting  an  eye  at 
the  hats  and  great-coats  which  hung  in  the  passage, 
called  another  girl  to  mind  the  door  while  she  went  up 
stairs.  The  sentinel  was  speedily  relieved;  for  the  girl 
returned  immediately,  and  begging  pardon  of  the  gentle- 
men for  leaving  them  in  the  street,  ushered  them  into  a 
floor-clothed  back  parlour,  half  office  and  half  dressing- 
room,  in  which  the  principal  useful  and  ornamental 
articles  of  furniture  were  a  desk,  awash-hand  stand  and 
shaving  glass,  a  boot-rack  and  boot-jack,  a  high  stool, 
four  chairs,  a  table,  and  an  old  eight-day  clock.  Over  the 
mantel-piece  were  the  sunken  doors  of  an  iron  safe, 
while  a  couple  of  hanging  shelves  for  books,  an  alma- 
nack, and  several  files  of  dusty  papers,  decorated  the 
walls. 

"Very  sorry  to  leave  you  standing  at  the  door,  sir," 
said  the  girl,  lighting  a  lamp,  and  addressing  Mr.  Pick- 
wick with  a  winning  smile,  "  but  you  was  quite  strangers 
to  me;  and  we  have  such  a  many  trampers  that  only 
come  to  see  what  they  can  lay  their  hands  on,  that 
really — " 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


327 


^' There  is  not  the  least  occasion  for  any  apology,  my 
dear,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  good-humouredly. 

Not  the  slightest,  my  love/'  said  Bob  Sawyer,  play- 
fully stretching  forth  his  arms  and  skipping  from  side 
to  side  as  if  to  prevent  the  young  lady's  leaving  the 
room. 

The  young  lady  was  not  at  all  softened  by  these  allure- 
ments, for  she  at  once  expressed  her  opinion  that  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  was  an  "  odous  creetur ; "  and,  on  his  be- 
coming rather  more  j^ressing  in  his  attentions,  imprinted 
her  fair  fingers  upon  his  face,  and  bounced  out  of  the 
room  with  many  expressions  of  aversion  and  contempt. 

Deprived  of  the  young  lady's  society,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
proceeded  to  divert  himself  by  peeping  into  the  desk, 
looking  into  all  the  table-drawers,  feigning  to  pick  the 
lock  of  the  iron  safe,  turning  the  almanack  with  its  face 
to  the  wall,  trying  on  the  boots  of  Mr.  Winkle,  senior, 
over  his  own,  and  making  several  other  humourous  ex- 
periments  upon  the  furniture,  all  of  which  afforded  Mr. 
Pickwick  unspeakable  horror  and  agony,  and  yielded 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  proportionate  delight. 

At  length  the  door  opened,  and  a  little  old  gentleman 
in  a  snuff-coloured  suit,  with  a  head  and  face  the  precise 
counterpart  of  those  belonging  to  Mr.  Winkle,  junior, 
excepting  that  he  was  rather  bald,  trotted  into  the  room 
with  Mr.  Pickwick's  card  in  one  hand  and  a  silver  can- 
dlestick in  the  other. 

''Mr.  Pickwick,  sir,  how  do  you  do?"  said  Winkle  the 
elder,  putting  down  the  candlestick  and  proffering  his 
hand.  ''  Hope  I  see  you  well,  sir.  Glad  to  see  you. 
Be  seated,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg,  sir.  This  gentleman 
is — " 

''My  friend,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick; 
"your  son's  friend. 

"  Oh/'  said  Mr.  Winkle  the  elder,  looking  rather  grimly 
at  Bob.    "  I  hope  you  are  well,  sir." 

"  Right  as  a  trivet,  sir,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 

^'This  other  gentleman,  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "is,  as  you 
will  see  when  you  have  read  the  letter  with  which  I  am 
entrusted,  a  very  near  relative,  or  I  should  rather  say 
a  very  particular  friend  of  your  son's.  His  name  is 
Allen." 

''That  gentleman?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  pointing 
with  the  card  towards  Ben  Allen^  who  had  fallen  asleep 


328  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

in  an  attitude  which  left  nothing  of  him  visible  but  his 

spine  and  his  coat  collar. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the  point  of  replying  to  the 
question,  and  reciting  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen's  name  and 
honourable  distinctions  at  full  length,  when  the  sprightly 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  the  view  of  rousing  his  friend  to  a 
sense  of  his  situation,  inflicted  a  startling  pinch  upon 
the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm,  which  caused  him  to  jump  up 
with  a  shriek.  Suddenlv  aware  that  he  was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger,  Mr.  Ben  Allen*advanced,  and  shak- 
ing Mr.  Winkle  most  affectionately  by  both  hands  for 
about  five  minutes,  murmured,  in  some  half-intelligible 
fragments  of  sentences,  the  great  delight  he  felt  in  see- 
ing him,  and  a  hospitalDle  inquiry  whether  he  felt  dis- 
posed to  take  anything  after  his  walk,  or  would  prefer 
waiting  ^^till  dinner-time;"  which  done,  he  sat  down 
and  gazed  about  him  with  a  petrified  stare,  as  if  he  had 
not  the  remotest  idea  of  where  he  was,  which  indeed  he 
had  not. 

All  this  was  most  embarrassing  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  the 
more  especially  as  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  evinced  palpable 
astonishment  at  the  eccentric — not  to  say  extraordinary 
— behaviour  of  his  two  companions.  To  bring  the  mat- 
ter to  an  issue  at  once,  he  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket, 
and  presenting  it  to  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  said: 

''This  letter,  sir,  is  from  your  son.  You  will  see,  by 
its  contents,  that  on  your  favourable  and  fatherly  con- 
sideration of  it  depend  his  future  happiness  and  welfare. 
Will  you  oblige  me  by  giving  it  the  calmest  and  coolest 
perusal,  and  by  discussing  the  subject  afterwards,  with 
me,  in  the  tone  and  spirit  in  which  alone  it  ought  to  be 
discussed?  You  may  judge  of  the  importance  of  your 
decision  to  your  son,  and  his  intense  anxiety  upon  the 
subject,  by  my  waiting  upon  you,  without  any  previous 
warning,  at  so  late  an  hour;  and,''  added  Mr.  Pickwick, 
glancing  slightly  at  his  two  companions,  ''and  under 
such  ilnfavourable  circumstances." 

With  this  prelude,  Mr.  Pickwick  placed  four  closely 
written  sides  of  extra  superfine  wire-wove  penitence  in 
the  hands  of  the  astounded  Mr.  Winkle,  senior;  and  re- 
seating himself  in  his  chair,  watched  his  looks  and 
'manner:  anxiously,  it  is  true,  but  with  the  open  front  of 
a  gentleman  who  feels  he  has  taken  no  part  which  he 
need  excuse  or  palliate. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


The  old  wharfinger  turned  the  letter  over;  looked  at 
the  front,  back,  and  sides;  made  a  microscopic  examina- 
tion of  the  fat  boy  on  the  seal;  raised^  his  eyes  to  Mr. 
Pickwick's  face;  and  then,  seating  himself  on  the  high 
stool,  and  drawing  the  lamp  closer  to  him,  broke  the 
wax,  unfolded  the  epistle,  and  lifting  it  to  the  light,  pre- 
pared to  read. 

'  Just  at  this  moment,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  whose  wit  had 
lain  dormant  for  some  minutes,  placed  his  hands  upon 
his  knees,  and  made  a  face  after  the  portraits  of  the  late 
Mr.  Clrimaldi,  as  clown.  It  so  happened  that  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior,  instead  of  being  deeply  engaged  in  reading  the 
letter,  as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer-thought,  chanced  to  be  look- 
ing over  the  top  of  it  at  no  less  a  person  than  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  himself;  and  rightly  conjecturing  that  the  face 
aforesaid  was  made  in  ridicule  and  derision  of  his  own 
person,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Bob  with  such  expressive 
sternness  that  the  late  Mr.  Grimaldi's  lineaments  gradu- 
ally resolved  themselves  into  a  very  fine  expression  of 
humility  and  confusion. 

Did  you  speak,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  senior, 
after  an  awful  silence. 

"'No,  sir,"  said  Bob,  with  no  remains  of  the  clown 
about  him,  save  and  except  the  extreme  redness  of  his 
cheeks. 

''You  are  sure  you  did  not,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior. 

"  Oh,  dear!  yes,  sir,  quite,"  replied  Bob. 
I  thought  you  did,  sir,"  rejoined  the  old  gentleman, 
with  indignant  emphasis.    ''Perhaps  you  looked  at  me, 
sir?" 

"Oh,  no  !  sir,  not  at  all,"  replied  Bob,  with  extreme 
civility. 

I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  sir,"  said  Mr  Winkle,  senior. 
Having  frowned  upon  the  abashed  Bob  with  great  mag- 
nificence, the  old  gentleman  again  brought  the  letter  to 
the  light,  and  began  to  read  it  seriously. 

Mr.  Pickwick  eyed  him  intently  as  he  turned  from  the 
bottom  line  of  the  first  page  to  the  top  line  of  the  second, 
and  froTn  the  bottom  of  the  second  to  the  top  of  the 
third,  and  from  the  bottom  of  the  third  to  the  top  of  the 
fourth;  but  not  the  slightest  alteration  of  countenance 
afforded  a  clue  to  the  feelings  with  which  he  received 
the  announcement  of  his  son's  marriage,  which  Mr. 


330 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Pickwick  knew  was  in  the  very  first  half-dozen  lines. 

He  read  the  letter  to  the  last  word;  folded  it  again 
with  all  the  carefulness  and  precision  of  a  man  of 
business;  and,  ju^t  when  Mr.  Pickwick  expected  somo 
great  outbreak  of  feeling,  dipped  a  pen  in  the  inkstand, 
and  said,  as  quietly  as  if  he  were  speaking  on  the  most 
ordinary  counting-house  topic: 

What  is  Nathaniel's  address,  Mr.  Pickwick  ?" 
The  George  and  Vulture,  at  present/'  replied  that 
gentleman. 

"  George  and  Vulture.    "Where  is  that  ?" 

George- Yard,  Lombard  Street." 
^an  the  city  ?" 
^^Yes." 

The  old  gentleman  methodically  indorsed  the  address 
on  the  back  of  the  letter;  and  then  placing  it  in  the  desk, 
which  he  locked,  said,  as  he  got  off  the  stool  and  put  the 
bunch  of  keys  in  his  pocket: 

I  suppose  there  is  nothing  else  which  need  detain 
us,  Mr.  Pickwick  ? " 

/'Nothing  else,  my  dear  sir!"  observed  that  warm- 
hearted person,  in  indignant  amazement.  Nothing 
else  !  Have  you  no  opinion  to  express  on  this  mo- 
mentous event  of  our  young  friend's  life?  No  assurance 
to  convey  to  him,  through  me,  of  the  continuance  of 
your  affection  and  protection  ?  Nothing  to  say  which 
will  cheer  and  sustain  him,  and  the  anxious  girl  who 
looks  to  him  for  support  ?   My  dear  sir,  consider. " 

I  will  consider,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  have 
nothing  to  say  just  now.  I  am  a  man  of  business,  Mr. 
Pickwick;  I  never  commit  myself  hastily  in  any  affair, 
and,  from  what  I  see  of  this,  I  by  no  means  like  the  ap- 
pearance of  it.  A  thousand  pounds  is  not  much,  Mr. 
Pickwick." 

''You're  very  right,  sir,"  interposed  Ben  Allen,  just 
awake  enough  to  know  that  he  had  spent  his  thousand 
pounds  without  the  smallest  difficulty.  "You're  an  in- 
telligent man;  Bob,  he's  a  very  knowing  fellow  this." 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  find  that  ^02^  do  me  the  justice 
to  make  the  admission,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  senior, 
looking  contemptuously  at  Ben  Allen,  who  was  shaking 
his  head  prof oundly.  "  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Pickwick,  that 
when  I  gave  my  son  a  roving  licence  for  a  year  or  so,  to 
see  something  of  men  and  manners  (which  he  has  done 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


331 


Under  your  auspices),  so  that  he  might  not  enter  life  a 
mere  boarding-school  milk  sop  to  be  gulled  by  every- 
body, I  never  bargained  for  this.  He  knows  that  very 
well,  so  if  I  withdraw  my  countenance  from  him  on  this 
account,  he  has  no  call  to  be  surprised.  He  shall  hear 
from  me,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Good-night,  sir.  Margaret, 
open  the  door." 

All  this  time,  Bob  Sawyer  had  been  nudging  Mr, 
Ben  Allen  to  say  something  on  the  right  side;  and  Ben 
accordingly  now  burst,  without  the  slightest  prelimi- 
nary notice,  into  a  brief  but  impassioned  piece  of  elo^ 
quence. 

•'Sir,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  staring  at  the  old  gentle- 
man, through  a  pair  of  very  dim  and  languid  eyes,  and 
working  his  right  arm  vehemently  up  and  down,  ^^you 
—you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

''As  the  lady's  brother,  of  course  you  are  an  excellent 
judge  of  the  question,"  retorted  Mr.  Winkle,  senior. 
There;  that's  enough.  Pray  say  no  more,  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Good-night,  gentlemen  ! " 

With  these  words  the  old  gentleman  took  up  the 
candle-stick,  and,  opening  the  room  door,  politely  mo- 
tioned towards  the  passage. 

''You  will  regret  this,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  setting 
his  teeth  close  together  to  keep  down  his  choler;  for  he 
felt  how  important  the  effect  might  prove  to  his  young 
friend.. 

"  I  am  at  present  of  a  different  opinion,"  calmly  re- 
plied Mr.  Winkle,  senior.  "Once  again,  gentlemen,  I 
wish  you  a  good  night." 

Mr.  Pickwick  walked,  with  angry  strides,  into  the 
street.  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  completely  quelled  by  the  de- 
cision of  the  old  gentleman's  manner,  took  the  same 
course;  Mr.  Ben  Allen's  hat  rolled  down  the  steps  im- 
mediately afterwards,  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen's  body  fol- 
lowed it  directly.    The  whole  party  went  silent  and  sup- 

Eerless  to  bed;  and  Mr  Pickwick  thought,  just  before 
e  fell  asleep,  that  if  he  had  known  Mr.  Winkle,  senior, 
had  been  quite  so  much  a  man  of  business,  it  was  ex- 
tremely probable  he  might  never  have  waited  on  hinl 
on  suciti  an  errand. 


332  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXin. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  PICKWICK  ENCOUNTERS  AN  OLD  ACQUAINT- 
ANCE. TO  WHICH  FORTUNATE  CIRCUMSTANCE  THE 
READER  IS  MAINLY  INDEBTED  FOR  MATTER  OF  THRIL- 
LING INTEREST  HEREIN  SET  DOWN,  CONCERNING  TWO 
GREAT  PUBLIC  MEN  OF  MIGHT  AND  POWER. 

The  morning  which  broke  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  sight, 
at  eight  o'clock,  was  not  at  all  calculaited  to  elevate  his 
spirits,  or  to  lessen  the  depression  which  the  unlooked- 
for  results  of  his  embassy  inspired.  The  sky  was  dark 
and  gloomy,  the  air  damp  and  raw,  the  streets  wet  and 
sloppy.  The  smoke  hung  sluggishly  above  the  chimney- 
tops,  as  if  it  lacked  the  courage  to  rise,  and  the  rain 
came  slowly  and  doggedly  down,  as  if  it  had  not  even 
the  spirit  to  pour.  A  game-cock  in  the  stable-yard, 
deprived  of  every  spark  of  his  accustomed  animation, 
balanced  himself  dismally  on  one  leg  in  a  corner;  a 
donkey,  moping  with  drooping  head  under  the  narrow 
roof  of  an  outhouse,  appeared  from  his  meditative  and 
miserable  countenance  to  be  contemplating  suicide.  In 
the  street,  umbrellas  were  the  only  things  to  be  seen, 
and  the  clicking  of  pattens  and  splashing  of  rain-drops 
the  only  sounds  to  be  heard. 

The  breakfast  was  interrupted  by  very  little  conver- 
sation; even  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  felt  the  influence  of  the 
weather,  and  the  previous  day's  excitement.  In  his 
own  expressive  language,  he  was  ''floored."  So  was 
Mr.  Ben  Allen.    So  was  Mr.  Pickwick. 

In  protracted  expectation  of  the  weather  clearing  up, 
the  last  evening  paper  from  London  was  read  and  re- 
read with  an  intensity  of  interest  only  known  in  cases 
of  extreme  destitution;  every  inch  of  the  carpet  was 
walked  over,  with  similar  perseverance;  the  windows 
were  looked  out  of,  often  enough  to  justify  the  imposi- 
tion of  an  additional  duty  upon  them;  all  kinds  of  topics 
of  conversation  were  started,  and  failed;  and  at  length 
Mr.  Pickwick,  when  noon  had  arrived,  without  a  change 
for  the  better,  rang  the  bell  resolutely  and  ordered  out 
the  chaise. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


335 


Although  the  roads  were  miry,  and  the  drizzling  rain 
came  down  harder  than  it  had  done  yet,  and  although 
the  mud  and  wet  splashed  in  at  the  open  windows  of  the 
carriage,  to  such  an  extent  that  the  discomfort  was  al- 
most as  great  to  the  pair  of  insides  as  to  the  pair  of  out- 
sides,  still  there  was  something  in  the  motion,  and  the 
sense  of  being  up  and  doing,  which  was  so  infinitely 
superior  to  being  pent  in  a  dull  room,  looking  at  the  dull 
rain  dripping  into  a  dull  street,  that  they  all  agreed,  on 
starting,  that  the  change  was  a  great  improvement,  and 
wondered  how  they  could  possibly  have  delayed  mak- 
ing it  as  long  as  they  had  done. 

When  they  stopped  to  change  at  Coventry,  the  steam 
ascended  from  the  horses  in  such  clouds  as  wholly  to 
obscure  the  ostler,  whose  voice  was,  however,  heard  to 
declare,  from  the  mist,  that  he  expected  first  Gold  Medal 
from  the  Humane  Society  on  their  next  distribution  of 
rewards,  for  taking  the  postboy's  hat  off;  the  water  de- 
scending from  the  brim  of  which,  the  invisible  gentle- 
man declared,  must  inevitably  have  drowned  him  (the 
postboy),  but  for  his  great  presence  of  mind  in  tearing 
it  promptly  from  his  head,  and  drying  the  gasping  man's 
countenance  with  a  wisp  of  straw. 

''This  is  pleasant,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  turning  up  his 
coat  collar,  and  pulling  the  shawl  over  his  mouth  to  con- 
centrate the  fumes  of  a  glass  of  brandy  just  swallowed. 

'' Werry,"  replied  Sam,  composedly. 
You  don't  seem  to  mind  it,"  observed  Bob. 
Vy,  I  don't  exactly  see  no  good  my  mindin'  on  it  'ud 
do,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

''That's  an  unanswerable  reason,  anyhow,"  said  Bob. 

"Yes,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  '^'Wotever  is,  is 
right,  as  the  young  nobleman  sveetly  remarked  wen  they 
put  him  down  in  the  pension  list 'cos  his  mother's  uncle's 
vife's  grandfather  vunce  lit  the  king's  pipe  vith  a  porta- 
ble tinder-box." 

"  Not  a  bad  notion  that,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer, 
approvingly. 

"  Just  wot  the  young  nobleman  said  ev'ry  quarter-day 
arterwards  for  the  rest  of  his  life,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Wos  you  ever  called  in,"  inquired  Sam,  glancing  at 
the  driver,  after  a  short  silence,  and  lowering  his  voice 
to  a  mysterious  whisper,  "wos  you  ever  called  in,  ven 
you  wos  'prentice  to  a  sawbones,  to  wisit  a  postboy?" 


334 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^^I  don't  remember  that  I  ever  was,"  replied  Bob 
Sawyer. 

''You  never  see  a  postboy  in  that  'ere  hospital  as  you 
walked  (as  they  says  o'  the  ghosts),  did  you?"  demanded 
Sam. 

' '  No, "  replied  Bob  Sawyer.    ' '  I  don't  think  I  ever  did. " 

"  Never  know'd  a  churchyard  where  there  wos  a  post- 
boy's tombstone,  or  see  a  dead  postboy,  did  you?"  in 
quired  Sam,  pursuing  his  catechism. 

"  No,"  rejoined  Bob,  "  I  never  did." 

''No! "  rejoined  Sam,  triumphantly.  "  Nor  never  vill; 
.and  there's  another  thing  that  no  man  never  see,  and 
that's  a  dead  donkey — no  man  never  see  a  dead  donkey, 
'cept  the  gen'l'm'n  in  the  black  silk  smalls  as  know'd  the 
young  'ooman  as  kept  a  goat;  and  that  was  a  French 
donkey,  so  worry  likely  he  warn't  wun  o'  the  reg'lar 
breed." 

"Well,  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  the  postboys?" 
asked  Bob  Sawyer. 

"This  here,"  replied  Sam.  "Without  goin'  so  far  as 
to  as-sert,  as  some  worry  sensible  people  do,  that  post- 
boys and  donkeys  ts  both  immortal,  wot  I  say  is  this :  - 
that  wenever  they  feels  theirselves  gettin'  stiff  and  past 
their  work,  they  just  rides  off  together,  wun  postboy  to 
a  pair,  in  the  usual  way;  wot  becomes  on  'em  nobody 
knows,  but  it's  worry  probable  as  they  starts  avay  to 
take  their  pleasure  in  some  other  vorld,  for  there  ain't  a 
man  alive  8.s  ever  see  either  a  donkey  or  a  postboy  a 
takin'  his  pleasure  in  this ! " 

Expatiating  upon  this  learned  and  remarkable  theory, 
and  citing  many  curious  statistical  and  other  facts  in 
its  support,  Sam  Weller  beguiled  the  time  until  they 
reached  Dunchurch,  where  a  dry  postboy  and  fresh 
horses  were  procured;  the  next  stage  was  Daventry,  and  ^ 
the  next  Towcester;  and  at  the  end  of  each  stage  it 
rained  harder  than  it  had  done  at  the  beginning. 

"I  say,"  remonstrated  Bob  Sawyer,  looking  in  at  the 
coach  window,  as  they  pulled  up  before  the  door  of 
the  Saracen's  Head,  Towcester,  "this  won't  do,  you 
know." 

"  Bless  me! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  just  awakening  from, 
a  nap,  "Pm  afraid  you  are  wet." 

"Oh,  you  are,  are  you?"  returned  Bob.    "Yes,  I  am 
a  little  that  way — uncomfortably  damp,  perhaps." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  835 

Bob  did  look  dampish,  inasmuch  as  the  rain  was 
streaming  from  his  neck,  elbows,  cuffs,  skirts,  and  knees; 
and  his  whole  apparel  shone  so,  with  the  wet,  that  it 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  full  suit  of  prepared 
oilskin. 

''I  am  rather  wet,"  said  Bob,  giving  himself  a  shake, 
and  casting  a  little  hydraulic  shower  around,  in  so 
doing,  like  a  Newfoundland  dog,  just  emerged  from  the 
water. 

"  I  think  it's  quite  impossible  to  go  on  to-night,"  inter- 
posed Ben. 

''Out  of  the  question,  sir,"  remarked  Sam  Weller, 
coming  to  assist  in  the  conference;  "  it's  cruelty  to  ani- 
mals, sir,  to  ask 'em  to  doit.  There's  beds  here,  sir," 
said  Sam,  addressing  his  master,  ''everything  clean  and 
comfortable.  Werry  good  little  dinner,  sir,  they  can  get 
ready  in  half  an  hour — pair  of  fowls,  sir,  and  a  weal 
cutlet;  French  beans,  'taturs,  tart,  and  tidiness.  You'd 
better  stop  vere  you  are,  sir,  if  I  might  recommend. 
Take  adwice,  sir,  as  the  doctor  said." 

The  host  of  Saracen's  Head  opportunely  appeared  at 
this  moment  to  confirm  Mr.  Weller's  statement  relative 
to  the  accommodations  of  the  establishment,  and  to 
back  his  entreaties  with  a  variety  of  dismal  conjectures 
regarding  the  state  of  the  roads,  the  doubt  of  fresh 
horses  being  to  be  had  at  the  next  stage,  the  dead  cer- 
tainty of  its  raining  all  night,  the  equally  mortal  cer- 
tainty of  its  clearing  up  in  the  morning,  and  other 
topics  of  inducement  familiar  to  innkeepers. 

''  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  but  I  must  send  a  letter 
to  London  by  some  conveyance,  so  that  it  may  be  de- 
livered the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning,  or  I  must  go 
forward  at  all  hazards." 

The  landlord  smiled  his  delight.  Nothing  could  be 
easier  than  for  the  gentleman  to  inclose  a  letter  in  a 
sheet  of  brown  paper,  and  send  it  on,  either  by  the  mail 
or  the  night  coach  from  Birmingham.  If  the  gentle- 
man were  particularly  anxious  to  have  it  left  as  soon  as 
possible,  he  might  write  outside,  ''To  be  delivered  im- 
mediately," which  was  sure  to  be  attended  to;  or  "  Pay 
the  bearer  half-a-crown  extra  for  instant  delivery," 
which  was  surer  still. 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "then  we  will  stop 
here." 


336  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Lights  in  the  Sun,  John;  make  up  the  fire — the  gen- 
tlemen are  wet!"  cried  the  landlord.  ''This  way,  gen- 
tlemen; don't  trouble  yourself  about  the  postboy  now, 
sir;  ril  send  him  to  you  when  you  ring  for  him,  sir. 
Now,  John,  the  candles!" 

The  candles  were  brought,  the  fire  was  stirred  up,  and 
a  fresh  log  of  wood  thrown  on.  In  ten  minutes'  time  a 
waiter  was  laying  the  cloth  for  dinner,  the  curtains  were 
drawn,  the  fire  was  blazing  brightly,  and  everything 
looked  (as  everything  always  does  in  all  decent  Eng- 
lish inns)  as  if  the  travellers  had  been  expected,  and 
their  comforts  prepared  for  days  beforehand. 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  at  a  side  table  and  hastily  in- 
dited a  note  to  Mr.  Winkle,  merely  informing  him  that 
he  was  detained  by  stress  of  weather,  but  would  cer- 
tainly be  in  London  next  day;  until  when  he  deferred 
any  account  of  his  proceedings.  This  note  was  hastily 
made  into  a  parcel  and  despatched  to  the  bar  per  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller. 

Sam  left  it  with  the  la  ndlady  and  was  returning  to  pull 
his  master's  boots  off,  after  drying  himself  by  the 
kitchen  fire,  when,  glancing  casually  through  a  half- 
opened  door,  he  was  arrested  by  the  sight  of  a  gentle- 
man with  a  sandy  head,  who  had  a  large  bundle  of 
newspapers  lying  on  the  table  before  him,  and  was  pe- 
rusing the  leading  article  of  one  with  a  settled  sneer 
which  curled  up  his  nose  and  all  his  other  features  into 
a  majestic  expression  of  haughty  contempt. 

"  Hallo!"  said  Sam,  "  I  ought  to  know  that  'ere  head 
and  them  features;  the  eye-glass,  too,  and  the  broad- 
brimmed  tile!   Eatansvill  to  vit,  or  I'm  a  Roman." 

Sam  was  taken  with  a  troublesome  cough  at  once,  for 
the  purpose  of  attracting  the  gentleman's  attention;  the 
gentleman  starting  at  the  sound,  raised  his  head  and  his 
eye-glass  and  disclosed  to  view  the  profound  and  thought- 
ful features  of  Mr.  Pott,  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

''Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Sam,  advancing  with 
a  bow,  ''my  master's  here,  Mr.  Pott." 

"  Hush,  hush!"  cried  Pott,  drawing  Sam  into  the  room 
and  closing  the  door,  with  a  countenance  of  mysterious 
dread  and  apprehension. 

"Wot's  the  matter,  sir?"  inquired  Sam,  looking  va- 
cantly about  him. 

''Not  a  whisper  of  my  name,"  replied  Pott;  *'this  is  a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


537 


Buflf  neighbourhood.    If  the  excited  and  irritable  popu- 
lace knew  I  was  here,  I  should  be  torn  to  pieces," 
No!  vould  you,  sir?'-  inquired  Sam. 

''I  should  be  the  victim  of  their  fury/' replied  Pott. 

Now,  young  man,  what  of  your  master?" 

"  He's  a  stoppin'  here  to-night  on  his  vay  to  town  vith 
a  couple  of  friends,"  replied  Sam. 

''Is  Mr.  Winkle  one  of  them?"  inquired  Pott,  with  a 
slight  frown. 

'•No,  sir;  Mr.  Vinkle  stops  at  home  now,"  rejoined 
Sam.    "  He's  married." 

"Married!"  exclaimed  Pott,  with  frightful  vehem- 
ence. He  stopped  short,  smiled  darkly,  and  added,  in 
a  low,  vindictive  tone,  "  It  serves  him  right !" 

Having  given  vent  to  this  cruel  ebullition  of  deadly 
malice  and  cold-blooded  triumph  over  a  fallen  enemy, 
Mr.  Pott  inquired  whether  Mr.  Pickwick's  friends  were 
'•  Blue."  Receiving  a  most  satisfactory  answer  in  the 
affirmative  from  Sam,  who  knew  as  much  about  the 
matter  as  Pott  himself,  he  consented  to  accompany  him 
to  Mr.  Pickwick's  room,  where  a  hearty  welcome  awaited 
him,  and  an  agreement  to  club  their  dinners  together 
was  at  once  made  and  ratified. 

"And  how  are  matters  going  on  in  Eatanswill?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Pott  had  taken  a  seat  near 
the  fire,  and  the  whole  party  had  got  their  wet  boots  off, 
and  dry  slippers  on.  "  Is  the  Independent  still  in  being?" 

'"  The  Independent,  sir,"  replied  Pott,  "is  still  drag- 
ging on  a  wretched  and  lingering  career.  Abhorred 
and  despised  by  even  the  few  who  are  cognizant  of  its 
miserable  and  disgraceful  existence;  stifled  by  the  very 
filth  it  so  profusely  scatters;  rendered  deaf  and  blind  by 
the  exhalations  of  its  own  slime  ;  the  obscene  journal, 
happily  unconscious  of  its  degraded  state,  is  rapidly 
sinking  beneath  that  treacherous  mud  which,  while  it 
seems  to  give  it  a  firm  standing  with  the  low  and  de- 
based classes  of  society,  is,  nevertheless,  rising  above 
its  detested  head,  and  will  speedily  engulf  it  forever." 

Having  delivered  this  manifesto  (which  formed  a  por- 
tion of  his  last  week's  leader)  with  vehement  articula- 
tion, the  editor  paused  to  take  breath,  and  looked 
majestically  at  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  You  are  a  young  man,  sir,"  said  Pott. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  nodded. 


338 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


So  are  you,  sir/'  said  Pott,  addressing  Mr..  Ben  Allen. 

Ben  admitted  the  soft  impeachment. 

''And  are  both  deeply  imbued  with  those  blue  prin- 
ciples which,  so  long  as  I  live,  I  have  pledged  myself  to 
the  people  of  these  kingdoms  to  support  and  to  main- 
tain ?"  suggested  Pott. 

''Why,  I  don't  exactly  know  about  that,''  replied  Bob 
Sawyer.    "lam — " 

"  Not  buff,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  interrupted  Pott,  drawing 
back  his  chair,  "  your  friend  is  not  buff,  sir?" 

"No,  no,"  rejoined  Bob,  "Pm  a  kind  of  a  plaid  at 
present;  a  compound  of  all  sorts  of  colours." 

"A  w^averer,"  said  Pott,  solemnly,  "a  waverer.  I 
should  like  to  show  you  a  series  of  eight  articles,  sir, 
that  have  appeared  in  the  Eatanswill  Gazette.  I  think 
I  may  venture  to  say  that  you  would  not  be  long  in 
establishing  your  opinions  on  a  firm  and  solid  blue  basis, 
sir." 

"  I  dare  say  I  should  turn  very  blue,  long  before  I  got 
to  the  end  of  them,"  responded  Bob. 

Mr.  Pott  looked  dubiously  at  Bob  Sawyer  for  some 
seconds,  and,  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said  : 

"You  have  seen  the  literary  articles  which  have  ap- 
peared at  intervals  in  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  in  the 
course  of  the  last  three  months,  and  which  have  excited 
such  general — I  may  say  such  universal — attention  and 
admiration?" 

"  Why,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  slightly  embarrassed 
by  the  question,  "the  fact  is,  I  have  been  so  much 
engaged  in  other  ways,  that  I  really  have  not  had  an 
opportunity  of  perusing  them." 

"You  should  do  so,  sir,"  said  Pott,  with  a  severe 
countenance. 

"I  will,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  They  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  copious  review  of  a 
work  on  Chinese  metaphysics,  sir,"  said  Pott. 

"Oh,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick;  "from  your  pen,  I 
hope?" 

"  From  the  pen  of  my  critic,  sir,"  rejoined  Pott,  with 
dignity. 

"An  abstruse  subject,  I  should  conceive,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"Very,  sir,"  responded  Pott,  looking  intensely  sage. 
"He  crammed  for  it,  to  use  a  technical  but  expressive 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


339 


term;  he  read  up  for  the  subject,  at  my  desire,  in  the 
Encyclopaedia  Britannica.^^ 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  I  was  not  aware  that 
that  valuable  work  contained  any  information  respect- 
ing Chinese  metaphysics." 

He  read,  sir,"  rejoined  Pott,  laying  his  hand  on  Mr. 
Pickwick's  knee,  and  looking  around  with  a  smile  of 
intellectual  superiority;  "  he  read  for  metaphysics  under 
the  letter  M,  and  for  China  under  the  letter  C  ;  and 
combined  his  information,  sir  !" 

Mr.  Pott's  features  assumed  so  much  additional 
grandeur  at  the  recollection  of  the  power  and  research 
displayed  in  the  learned  effusions  in  question,  that  some 
minutes  elapsed  before  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  emboldened 
to  renew  the  conversation;  at  length,  as  the  editor's 
countenance  gradually  relaxed  into  its  customary 
expression  of  moral  supremacy,  he  ventured  to  resume 
the  discourse  by  asking: 

Is  it  fair  to  inquire  what  great  object  has  brought 
you  so  far  from  home?" 

That  object  which  actuates  and  animates  me  in  all 
my  gigantic  labours,  sir,"  replied  Pott,  with  a  calm  smile; 
*'my  country's  good." 

I  supposed  it  was  some  public  mission,"  observed 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

^^Yes,  sir,"  resumed  Pott,  ''it  is."  Here,  bending 
towards  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  whispered  in  a  deep,  hollow 
voice,  ''A  buff  ball,  sir,  will  take  place  in  Birmingham 
to-morrow  evening." 

^'God  bless  me!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Yes,  sir,  and  supper,"  added  Pott. 
*'You  don't  say  so!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Pott  nodded  portentously. 

Now,  although  Mr.  Pickwick  feigned  to  stand  aghast 
at  this  disclosure,  he  was  so  little  versed  in  local  politics 
that  he  was  unable  to  form  an  adequate  comprehension 
of  the  importance  of  the  dire  conspiracy  it  referred  to; 
observing  which,  Mr.  Pott,  drawing  forth  the  last  num- 
ber of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  referring  to  the  same, 
delivered  himself  of  the  following  paragraph: 

''HOLE-AND-COKNER  BUFFERY. 

A  reptile  contemporary  has  recently  sweltered  forth 


340 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


his  black  venom  in  the  vain  and  hopeless  attempt  of 
sullying  the  fair  name  of  our  distinguished  and  excellent 
representative,  the  Honourable  Mr.  Slumkey — that 
Slumkey  whom  we,  long  before  he  gained  his  present 
noble  and  exalted  position,  predicted  would  one  day  be, 
as  he  now  is,  at  once  his  country's  brightest  honour,  and 
her  proudest  boast:  alike  her  bold  defender  and  her 
honest  pride — our  reptile  contemporary,  we  say,  has 
made  himself  merry  at  the  expense  of  a  superbly 
embossed,  plated  coal-scuttle,  which  has  been  presented 
to  that  glorious  man  by  his  enraptured  constituents,  and 
towards  the  purchase  of  which  the  nameless  wretch 
insinuates  the  Honourable  Mr.  Slumkey  himself  con- 
tributed, through  a  confidential  friend  of  his  butler's, 
more  than  three-fourths  of  the  whole  sum  subscribed. 
Why,  does  not  the  crawling  creature  see  that,  even  if - 
this  be  the  fact,  the  Honourable  Mr.  Slumkey  only 
appears  in  a  still  more  amiable  and  radiant  light  than 
before,  if  that  be  possible?  Does  not  even  his  obtuse- 
ness  perceive  that  this  amiable  and  touching  desire  to 
carry  out  the  wishes  of  the  constituent  body  must  for- 
ever endear  him  to  the  hearts  and  souls  of  such  of  his 
fellow  townsmen  as  are  not  worse  than  swine;  or,  in 
other  words,  who  are  not  as  debased  as  our  contem- 
porary himself?  But  such  is  the  wretched  trickery  of 
Hole-and-corner  Buff  ery !  These  are  not  its  only  artifices. 
Treason  is  abroad.  We  boldly  state,  now  that  we  are 
goaded  to  the  disclosure,  and  we  throw  ourselves  oil  the 
country  and  its  constables  for  protection — we  boldly 
state  that  secret  preparations  are  at  this  moment  in  prog- 
ress for  a  Buff  ball;  which  is  to  be  held  in  a  Buff  town, 
in  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  a  Bnff  population;  which 
is  to  be  conducted  by  a  Bufi  master  of  the  ceremonies; 
which  is  to  be  attended  by  four  ultra  Buff  members  of 
Parliament,  and  the  admission  to  which  is  to  be  by  Buff 
tickets!  Does  our  fiendish  contemporary  wince?  Let 
him  writhe,  in  impotent  malice,  as  we  pen  the  words, 
We  will  be  there." 

''There,  sir,"  said  Pott,  folding  up  the  paper  quite 
exhausted,  ''that  is  the  state  of  the  case!" 

The  landlord  and  waiter  entering  at  the  moment  with 
dinner,  caused  Mr.  Pott  to  lay  his  fingers  on  his  lips,  in 
token  that  he  considered  his  life  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  hands, 
and  depended  on  his  secrecy.    Messrs.  Bob  Sawyer  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


341 


Benjamin  Allen,  who  had  irreverently  fallen  asleep 
during  the  reading  of  the  quotation  from  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette,  and  the  discussion  which  followed  it,  were 
roused  by  the  mere  whispering  of  the  talismanic  word 
'^Dinner"  in  their  ears;  and  to  dinner  they  went,  with 
good  digestion  waiting  on  appetite,  and  health  on  both, 
and  a  waiter  on  all  three. 

In  the  course  of  the  dinner  and  the  sitting  which  suc- 
ceeded it,  Mr.  Pott,  descending,  for  a  few  moments,  to 
domestic  topics,  informed  Mr.  Pickwick  that  the  air  of 
Eatanswill  not  agreeing  with  his  lady,  she  was  then 
engaged  in  making  a  tour  of  different  fashionable  Avater- 
ing-places  with  a  view  to  the  recovering  of  her  wonted 
health  and  spirits;  this  was  a  delicate  veiling  of  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  Pott,  acting  upon  her  of^en  repeated  threat  of 
separation,  had,  in  virtue  of  an  arrangement  negotiated 
by  her  brother,  the  Lieutenant,  and  concluded  by  Mr. 
Pott,  permanently  retired  with  the  faithful  body-guard 
upon  one  moiety  or  half-part  of  the  annual  income  and 
profits  arising  from  the  editorship  and  sale  of  the  Eatans- 
will Gazette. 

While  the  great  Mr.  Pott  was  dwelling  upon  this  and 
other  matters,  enlivening  the  conversation  from  time  tot 
time  with  various  extracts  from  his  own  lucubrations,  a 
stern  stranger,  calling  from  the  window  of  a  stage- 
coach, outward  bound,  which  halted  at  the  inn  to  deliver 
packages,  requested  to  know  whether,  if  he  stopped 
short  on  his  journey  and  remained  there  for  the  night, 
he  could  be  furnished  with  the  necessary  accommoda- 
tion of  a  bed  and  bedstead. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  the  landlord. 

'^I  can,  can  I? "  inquired  the  stranger,  who  seemed 
habitually  suspicious  in  look  and  manner. 
No  doubt  of  it,  sir,"  replied  the  landlord. 
Good,"  said  the  stranger.    "  Coachman,  I  get  down 
here.    Guard,  my  carpet-bag!" 

Bidding  the  other  passengers  good  night,  in  a  rather 
snappish  manner,  the  stranger  alighted.  He  was  a 
shortish  gentleman,  v\rith  very  stiff  black  hair,  cut  in 
the  porcupine  or  blacking-brush  style,  and  standing  stiff 
and  straight  all  over  his  head;  his  aspect  was  pompous 
and  threatening;  his  manner  was  peremptory;  his  eyes 
were  sharp  and  restless;  and  his  whole  bearing  bespoke 
a  feeling  of  great  confidoDoe  in  himself,  and  a  con- 


343 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 


sciousness  of  immeasurable  superiority  over  all  other 
people. 

This  gentleman  was  shown  into  the  room  originally 
assigned  to  the  patriotic  Mr.  Pott;  and  the  waiter  re- 
marked, in  dumb  astonishment  at  the  singular  coinci- 
dence, that  he  had  no  sooner  lighted  the  candles  than 
the  gentleman,  diving  into  his  hat,  drew  forth  a  news- 
paper, and  began  to  read  it  with  the  very  same  expres- 
sion of  indignant  scorn  which,  upon  the  majestic 
features  of  Pott,  had  paralyzed  his  energies  an  hour 
before.  The  man  observed,  too,  that  whereas  Mr.  Pott's 
scorn  had  been  roused  by  a  newspaper  headed  the 
Eatanswill  Independent,  this  gentleman's  withering 
contempt  was  awakened  by  a  newspaper  entitled 
the  Eatanswill  Gazette? 

"  Send  the  landlord,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  rejoined  the  waiter. 

The  landlord  was  sent,  and  came. 
Are  you  the  landlord?"  inquired  the  gentleman. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  replied  the  landlord. 

^^Do  you  know  me?"  demanded  the  gentleman. 

^'I  have  not  that  pleasure,"  rejoined  the  landlord. 

^'  My  name  is  Shirk,"  said  the  gentleman. 

The  landlord  slightly  inclined  his  head. 

"  Slurk,  sir,"  repeated  the  gentleman,  haughtily.  "  Do 
you  know  me  now,  man?" 

The  landlord  scratched  his  head,  looked  at  the  ceiling, 
and  at  the  stranger,  and  smiled  feebly. 

'^Do  you  know  me,  man?"  inquired  the  stranger, 
angrily. 

The  landlord  made  a  strong  effort,  and  at  length  re- 
plied, ''Well,  sir,  I  do  not  know  you." 

''Great  Heaven!"  said  the  stranger,  dashing  his 
clenched  fists  upon  the  table.    "  And  this  is  popularity!" 

The  landlord  took  a  step  or  two  towards  the  door;  the 
stranger,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  him,  resumed: 

"This,"  said  the  stranger,  "  this  is  gratitude  for  years 
of  labour  and  study  in  behalf  of  the  masses.  I  alight 
wet  and  weary;  no  enthusiastic  crowds  press  forward 
to  greet  their  champion;  the  church-bells  are  silent;  the 
very  name  elicits  no  responsive  feeling  in  their  torpid 
bosoms.  It  is  enough,"  said  the  agitated  Mr.  Slurk, 
pacing  to  and  fro,  "to  curdle  the  ink  in  one's  pen,  and 
mduce  one  to  abandon  their  cause  forever," 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


343 


''Did  you  say  brandy  and  water,  sir?"  said  the  land- 
lord, venturing  a  hint. 

"'Rum/'  said  Mr.  Slurk,  turning  fiercely  upon  him. 
"  Have  you  got  a  fire  anywhere?" 

"We  can  light  one  directly,  sir,"  said  the  landlord. 

"Which  will  throw  out  no  heat  until  it  is  bed- 
time," interrupted  Mr.  Slurk.  ''  Is  there  anybody  in  the 
kitchen?" 

Not  a  soul.  There  was  a  beautiful  fire.  Everybody 
had  gone,  and  the  door  was  closed  for  the  night. 

"  I  will  drink  my  rum  and  water,"  said  Mr.  Slurk,  "by 
the  kitchen  fire."  So,  gathering  up  his  hat  and  news- 
paper, he  stalked  solemnly  behind  the  landlord  to  that 
humble  apartment,  and  throwing  himself  on  a  settle  by 
the  fireside,  resumed  his  countenance  of  scorn,  and  began 
to  read  and  drink  in  silent  dignity. 

Now  some  demon  of  discord,  fiying  over  the  Saracen's 
Head  at  that  moment,  on  casting  down  his  eyes  in,  mere 
idle  curiosity,  happened  to  behold  Slurk  established 
comfortably  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  Pott  slightly  elevated 
with  wine  in  another  room;  upon  which  the  malicious 
demon,  darting  down  into  the  last-mentioned  apartment 
with  inconceivable  rapidity,  passed  at  once  into  the  head 
of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and  prompted  him  for  his  (the 
demon's)  own  evil  purposes,  to  speak  as  follows: 

"  I  say,  we've  let  the  fire  out.  It's  uncommonly  cold 
after  the  rain,  isn't  it?" 

"  It  really  is,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  shivering. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  a  bad  notion  to  have  a  cigar  by  the 
kitchen  fire,  would  it?"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  still  prompted 
by  the  demon  aforesaid. 

"  It  would  be  particularly  comfortable,  J  think,"  re- 
pHed  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  Mr.  Pott,  what  do  you  say  ?" 

Mr.  Pott  yielded  a  ready  assent,  and  all  four  travellers, 
each  with  his  glass  in  hand,  at  once  betook  themselves 
to  the  kitchen,  with  Sam  Weller  heading  the  procession 
to  show  them  the  way. 

The  stranger  was  still  reading;  he  looked  up  and 
started.    Mr.  Pott  started. 

"What's  the  matter?"  whispered  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"That  reptile!"  replied  Pott. 

"What  reptile?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about 
him  for  fear  he  should  tread  on  some  overgrown  black 
beetle  or  dropsical  spider. 


344  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


That  reptile,"  whispered  Pott,  catching  Mr.  Pickwick 
by  the  arm,  and  point* towards  the  stranger,  That 
reptile — Slurk,  of  the  Independent ! " 

Perhaps  we  had  better  retire/'  whispered  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Never,  sir/'  rejoined  Pott — pot-valiant  in  a  double 
sense — never."  With  these  words,  Mr.  Pott  took  up 
his  position  on  an  opposite  settle,  and  selecting  one  from 
a  little  bundle  of  newspapers,  began  to  read  against  his 
enemy. 

Mr.  Pott,  of  course,  read  the  Independent,  and  Mr. 
Slurk,  of  course,  read  the  Gazette,  and  each  gentleman 
audibly  expressed  his  contempt  of  the  other's  composi- 
tions by  bitter  laughs  and  sarcastic  sniffs,  whence  they 
proceeded  to  more  open  expressions  of  opinion,  such 
as   ' '  absurd, "    ' '  wretched, "    • '  atrocity, "    ' '  humbug, " 

knavery,"  dirt,"  filth,"  slime,"  ditch-water," 
and  other  critical  remarks  of  the  like  nature. 

Both  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  had  beheld 
these  symptoms  of  rivalry  and  hatred  with  a  degree  of 
delight  which  imparted  great  additional  relish  to  the 
cigars  at  which  they  were  puffing  most  vigorously.  The 
moment  they  began  to  flag  the  mischievous  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  addressing  Slurk  with  great  politeness,  said  : 

'•Will  you  allow  me  to  look  at  your  paper,  sir,  when 
you  have  done  with  it?" 

You'll  find  very  little  to  repay  your  trouble  in  this 
contemptible  thing,  sir,"  replied  Slurk,  bestowing  a 
Satanic  frown  on  Pott. 

''You  shall  have  this  presently,"  said  Pott,  looking 
up,  pale  with  rage,  and  quivering  in  his  speech  from  the 
same  cause.  "Ha  !  ha  !  you  will  be  amused  with  this 
fellow's  audacity. 

Terrific  emphasis  was  laid  upon  "thing"  and  "fel- 
low; "  and  the  faces  of  both  editors  began  to  glow  with 
defiance. 

"  The  ribaldry  of  this  miserable  man  is  despicably 
disgusting,"  said  Pott,  pretending  to  address  Bob 
Sawyer,  and  scowling  upon  Slurk. 

Here  Mr.  Slurk  laughed  very  heartily,  and  folding  the 
paper  so  as  to  get  at  a  fresh  column  conveniently,  said 
that  the  blockhead  really  amused  him. 

"  What  an  impudent  blunderer  this  fellow  is  I"  said 
Pott,  turning  from  pink  to  criruson, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


345 


Did  you  ever  read  any  of  this  man's  foolery,  sirP' 
inquired  Slurk  of  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  Never/'  replied  Bob  ;  ^'is  it  very  bad?" 
'^Oh,  shocking!  shocking!"  rejoined  Slurk. 
Really  !    Dear  me,  this  is  too  atrocious  ! "  exclaimed 
Pott  at  this  juncture,  still  feigning  to  be  absorbed  in 
his  reading. 

If  you  can  wade  through  a  few  sentences  of  malice, 
meanness,  falsehood,  perjury,  treachery,  and  cant,"  said 
lurk,  handing  the  paper  to  Bob,  ''you  will,  perhaps, 
be  somewhat  repaid  by  a  laugh  at  the  style  of  this  un- 
grammatical  twaddler." 

''What's  that  you  said,  sir?"  inquired  Pott,  looking 
up,  trembling  all  over  with  passion. 

"  What's  that  to  you,  sir  ?"  replied  Slurk. 
'  Ungrammatical  twaddler,  was  it,  sir,"  said  Pott. 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was,"  replied  Sturk,  "  and  blue  bore,  sir,  if 
you  like  that  better;  ha!  ha!" 

Mr.  Pott  retorted  not  a  word  to  this  jocose  insult,  but 
deliberately  folding  up  his  copy  of  the  Independent, 
flattened  it  carefully  down,  crushed  it  beneath  his  boot, 
spat  upon  it  with  great  ceremony,  and  flung  it  into  the 
fire. 

^' There,  sir,"  said  Pott,  retreating  from  the  stove, 
"  and  that's  the  way  I  would  serve  the  viper  who  pro- 
duces it  if  I  were  not,  fortunately  for  him,  restrained 
by  the  laws  of  my  country." 

"  Serve  him  so,  sir!"  cried  Slurk,  starting  up;  "those 
laws  shall  never  be  appealed  to  by  him,  sir,  in  such  a 
case.    Serve  him  so,  sir!" 

"  Hear!  hear!"  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

"Nothing  can  be  fairer,"  observed  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 

"  Serve  him  so,  sir!"  reiterated  Slurk,  in  a  loud  voice. 

Mr.  Pott  darted  a  look  of  contempt  which  might  have 
withered  an  anchor. 

"Serve  him  so,  sir!"  reiterated  Slurk,  in  a  louder 
voice  than  before. 

"  I  will  not,  sir,"  rejoined  Pott. 

"Oh,  you  won't!  won't  you,  sir?"  said  Slurk  in  a 
taunting  manner;  "you  hear  this,  gentlemen!  He 
won't;  not  that  he's  afraid;  oh,  no!  lie  won^t.    Ha!  ha!" 

"  I  consider  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  moved  by  this 
sarcasm,  I  consider  you  a  viper.  I  look  upon  you,  sir, 
as  a  man  who  has  placed  himself  beyond  the  pale  of 


346 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


society,  by  his  most  audacious,  disgraceful,  and  abom- 
inable public  conduct.  I  view  you,  sir,  personally  or 
politically,  in  no  other  light  than  an  unparalleled  and 
unmitigated  viper." 

The  indignant  Independent  did  not  wait  to  hear  the 
end  of  this  personal  denunciation;  for,  catching  up  his 
carpet-bag,  which  was  well  stuffed  with  movables,  he 
swung  it  in  the  air  as  Pott  turned  away,  and,  letting 
it  fall  with  a  circular  sweep  on  his  head,  just  at  that 
particular  angle  of  the  bag  where  a  good,  thick  hair- 
brush happened  to  be  packed,  caused  a  sharp  crash  to 
be  heard  throughout  the  kitchen,  and  brought  him  at 
once  to  the  ground. 

Gentlemen,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Pott  started  up 
and  seized  the  fire-shovel,  ''gentlemen!  Consider,  for 
Heaven's  sake — help — Sam — here — pray,  gentlemen — 
interfere,  somebody." 

Uttering  these  incoherent  exclamations,  Mr.  Pickwick 
rushed  between  the  infuriated  combatants  just  in  time 
to  receive  the  carpet  bag  on  one  side  of  his  body  and 
the  fire-shovel  on  the  other.  Whether  the  represent- 
atives of  the  public  feeling  of  Eatanswill  were  blinded 
by  animosity,  or,  being  both  acute  reasoners,  saw  the 
advantage  of  having  a  third  party  between  them  to 
bear  all  the  blows,  certain  it  is  that  they  paid  not  the 
slightest  attention  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  but  defying  each 
other  with  great  spirit,  plied  the  carpet-bag  and  the 
fire-shovel  most  fearlessly.  Mr.  Pickwick  would  un- 
questionably have  suffered  severely  from  his  humane 
interference  if  Mr.Weller,  attracted  by  his  master's  cries, 
had  not  rushed  in  at  the  moment  and,  snatching  up  a 
meal-sack,  effectually  stopped  the  conflict  by  drawing  it 
over  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  mighty  Pott,  and 
clasping  him  tight  round  the  elbows. 

"  Take  avay  that  'ere  bag  from  the  t'other  madman," 
said  Sam  to  Ben  Allen  and  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  done 
nothing  but  dodge  round  the  group,  each  with  a  tortoise- 
shell  lancet  in  his  hand,  ready  to  bleed  the  first  man 
stunned.  ''Give  it  up,  you  wretched  little  creetur,  or 
Fll  smother  you  in  it." 

Awed  by  these  threats,  and  quite  out  of  breath,  the 
Independent  suffered  himself  to  be  disarmed;  and  Mr. 
Weller,  removing  the  extinguisher  from  Pott^  set  him 
free  with  a  caution. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


347 


You  take  yourselves  off  to  bed  quietly/'  said  Sam, 
^'  or  I'll  put  you  botk  in  it,  and  let  you  fight  it  out  vith 
the  mouth  tied,  as  I  vould  a  dozen  sich,  if  they  played 
these  games.  And  you  have  the  goodness  to  come  this 
here  vay,  sir,  if  you  please." 

Thus  addressing  his  master,  Sam  took  him  by  the 
arm  and  led  him  off,  while  the  rival  editors  were  sever- 
ally removed  to  their  beds  by  the  landlord,  under  the 
inspection  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen, 
breathing,  as  they  went  away,  many  sanguinary  threats 
and  making  vague  appointments  for  mortal  combat 
next  day.  When  they  came  to  think  it  over,  however, 
it  occurred  to  them  that  they  could  do  it  much  better 
in  print,  so  they  recommenced  deadly  hostilities  with- 
out delay,  and  all  Eatanswill  rung  with  their  boldness 
— on  paper. 

They  had  taken  themselves  off  in  separate  coaches 
early  next  morning,  before  the  other  travellers  were 
stirring;  and  the  weather  having  now  cleared  up,  the 
chaise  companions  once  more  turned  their  faces  to 
London. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

INVOLVING  A  SERIOUS  CHANGE  IN  THE  WELLER  FAMILY, 
AND  THE  UNTIMELY  DOWNFALL  OF  THE  RED-NOSED 
MR.  STIGGINS. 

Considering  it  a  matter  of  delicacy  to  abstain  from 
introducing  either  Bob  Sawyer  or  Ben  Allen  to  the 
young  couple,  until  they  were  fully  prepared  to  expect 
them,  and  wishing  to  spare  Arabella's  feelings  as  much 
as  possible,  Mr.  Pickwick  proposed  that  he  and  Sam 
should  alight  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  George  and 
Vulture,  and  that  the  two  young  men  should,  for  the 
present,  take  up  their  quarters  elsewhere.  To  this  they 
very  readily  agreed,  and  the  proposition  was  accord- 
ingly acted  upon,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
Ijetaking  themselves  to  a  sequestered  pot-shop  on  the 
remotest  confines  of  the  Borough,  behind  the  bar-door 
of  which  their  names  had  in  other  days  very  often  ap- 
peared, at  the  end  of  long  and  complex  calculations 
worked  in  white  chalk. 


348  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Dear  me,  Mr.  Weller/'  said  the  pretty  housemaid, 
meeting  Sam  at  the  door. 

Dear  me  I  vish  it  wos,  my  dear/'  replied  Sam,  drop- 
ping behind,  to  let  his  master  get  out  of  hearing.  Wot 
a  sweet  lookin'  creetur  you  are,  Mary!" 

Lor,  Mr.  Weller,  what  nonsense  you  do  talk  ! "  said 
Mary.    ^'Oh!  don't,  Mr.  Weller." 
Don't  what,  my  dear?"  said  Sam. 

''Why,  that,"  replied  the  pretty  housemaid.  ''Lor, 
do  get  along  with  you."  Thus  admonishing  him,  the 
pretty  housemaid  smilingly  pushed  Sam  against  the 
wall,  declaring  that  he  had  tumbled  her  cap,  and  put 
her  hair  quite  out  of  curl. 

"And  prevented  what  I  was  going  to  say,  besides," 
added  Mary.  "  There's  a  letter  been  waiting  here  for 
you  four  days;  you  hadn't  been  gone  away  half  an  hour 
w^hen  it  came ;  and  more  than  that,  it's  got  immediate 
on  the  outside." 

"  Vere  is  it,  my  love  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  I  took  care  of  it  for  you,  or  I  dare  say  it  would  have 
been  lost,  long  before  this,"  replied  Mary.  "  There,  take 
it ;  it's  more  than  you  deserve." 

With  these  words,  after  many  pretty  little  coquettish 
doubts  and  fears,  and  wishes  that  she  might  not  have 
lost  it,  Mary  produced  the  letter  from  behind  the  nicest 
little  muslin  tucker  possible,  and  handed  it  to  Sam,  who 
thereupon  kissed  it  with  much  gallantry  and  devotion. 

'•  My  goodness  me  ! "  said  Mary,  adjusting  the  tucker, 
and  feigning  unconsciousness,  "  you  seem  to  have  grown 
very  fond  ot  it  all  at  once." 

To  this  Mr.  Weller  only  replied  by  a  wink,  the  intense 
meaning  of  which  no  description  could  convey  the  faint- 
est idea  of ;  and,  sitting  himself  down  beside  Mary  on  a 
window-seat,  opened  the  letter  and  glanced  at  the  con- 
tents. 

"  Hallo  ! "  exclaimed  Sam,  "  wot's  all  this?" 

"Nothing  the  matter,  I  hope?"  said  Mary,  peeping 
over  his  shoulder. 

"  Bless  them  eyes  o'  yourn,"  said  Sam,  looking  up. 

"  Never  mind  my  eyes  ;  you  had  much  better  read 
your  letter,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid,  and  as  she  said 
so,  she  made  the  eyes  twinkle  with  such  slyness  and 
beauty  that  they  were  perfectly  irresistible. 

Sam  refreshed  himself  with  a  kiss,  and  read  as  follows: 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


349 


^'Markis  Gran 

"By  dorken 

"Wensdy. 

"  My  dear  Sammle, 
I  am  werry  sorry  to  have  the  pleasure  of  bein  a  Bear 
of  ill  news  your  Mother  in  law  cort  cold  consekens  of 
imprudenly  settin  too  long  on  the  damp  grass  in  the 
rain  a  hearin  of  a  shepherd  who  wornt  able  to  leave  off 
till  late  at  night,  owen  to  his  havin  vound  his-self  up 
vith  brandy  and  vater  and  not  being  able  to  stop  his-self 
till  he  got  a  little  sober  which  took  a  many  hours  to  do 
the  doctor  says  that  if  she'd  svallo'd  varm  brandy  and 
vater  artervards  insted  of  afore  she  mightn't  have  been 
no  vuif  her  veels  wos  immedetly  greased  and  every  think 
done  to  set  her  agoin  as  could  be  inwented  your  farther 
had  hopes  as  she  vould  have  vorked  round  as  usual  but 
just  as  she  wos  a  turnen  the  corner  my  boy  she  took  the 
wrong  road  and  vent  down  hill  vith  a  welocity  you 
never  see  and  notvithstandin  that  the  drag  wos  put  on 
directly  by  the  medikel  man  it  warnt  of  no  use  at  all 
for  she  paid  the  last  pike  at  twenty  minutes  afore  six 
o'clock  yesterday  evenin  havin  done  the  journey  werry 
much  under  the  reglar  time  vich  praps  was  partly  owen 
to  her  haven  taken  in  werry  little  luggage  by  the  vay 
your  father  says  that  if  you  will  come  and  see  me 
Sammy  he  vill  take  it  as  a  werry  great  favor  for  I  am 
werry  lonely  Samivel  n  b  he  vill  have  it  spelt  that  vay 
vich  I  say  ant  right  and  as  there'  is  sich  a  many  things 
to  settle  he  is  sure  your  guvner  Vont  object  of  course  he 
vill  not  Sammy  for  I  knows  him  better  so  he  sends  his 
dooty  in  which  I  join  and  am  Samivel  infernally  yours 

'^ToNY  Veller." 

''Wot  a  incomprehensible  letter,"  said  Sam;  ''who's 
to  know  wot  it  means,  vith  all  this  he-ing  and  I-ing!  It 
ain't  my  father's  writin'  'cept  this  here  signater  in  print 
letters;  that's  his." 

"Perhaps  he  got  somebody  to  write  it  for  him,  and 
signed  it  himself  afterwards,"  said  the  pretty  house- 
maid. 

"Stop  a  minit,"  replied  Sam,  running  oyer  the  letter 
again,  and  pausing  here  and  there  to  reflect,  as  he  did 
so.  "You've  hit  it.  The  gcnTm'n  as  wrote  it,  wos  a 
tellin'  all  about  the  misf ortun  in  a  proper  vay,  and  thei^ 


350  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


my  father  comes  a  lookin'  over  him,  and  complicates 
the  whole  concern  by  puttin'  his  oar  in.  That's  just  the 
worry  sort  'o  thing  he'd  do.  You're  right,  Mary,  my 
dear.'" 

Having  satisfied  himself  upon  this  point,  Sam  read  the 
letter  all  over,  once  more,  and  appearing  to  form  a  clear 
notion  of  its  contents  for  the  first  time,  ejaculated 
thoughtfully,  as  he  folded  it  up: 

"  And  so  the  poor  creetur's  dead!  I'm  sorry  for  it.  She 
warn't  a  bad  disposed  'ooman  if  them  shepherds  had  let 
her  alone.    I'm  worry  sorry  for  it." 

Mr.  Weller  uttered  these  words  in  so  serious  a  manner 
that  the  pretty  housemaid  cast  down  her  eyes  and  looked 
very  grave.  ^ 

Hows'ever,"  said  Sam,  putting  the  letter  in  his 
pocket,  with  a  gentle  sigh,  ^^it  wos  to  be — and  wos,  as 
the  old  lady  said  arter  she'd  married  the  footman.  Can't 
be  helped  now,  can  it,  Mary?" 

Mary  shook  her  head,  and  sighed  too, 
I  mustapply  to  the  hemperor  for  leave  of  absence," 
said  Sam. 

Mary  sighed  again — the  letter  was  so  very  affecting. 
''Good-bye!"  said  Sam. 

''Good-bye,"  rejoined  the  pretty  housemaid,  turning 
her  head  away. 

"Well,  shake  hands,  won't  you?"  said  Sam. 

The  pretty  housemaid  put  out  a  hand  which,  although 
it  was  a  housemaid's,  was  a  very  small  one,  and  rose 
to  go.  • 

"  I  shan't  be  very  long  avay,"  said  Sam. 

"You're  always  away,"  said  Mary,  giving  her  head 
the  slightest  possible  toss  in  fhe  air.  "You  no  sooner 
come,  Mr.  Weller,  than  you  go  again." 

Mr.  Weller  drew  the  household  beauty  closer  to  him, 
and  entered  upon  a  whispering  conversation,  which  had 
not  proceded  far,  when  she  turned  her  face  round  and 
condescended  to  look  at  him  again.  When  they  parted, 
it  was  somehow  or  other  indispensably  necessary  for 
her  to  go  to  her  room  and  arrange  the  cap  and  curls  be- 
fore she  could  think  of  presenting  herself  to  her  mis- 
tress; which  preparatory  ceremony  she  'went  off  to 
perform,  bestov/ing  many  nods  and  smiles  on  Sam  over 
the  bannisters  as  she  tripped  up  stairs. 

"I  shan't  be  avay  more  than  a  day  or  two,  sir,  at 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


351 


farthest,"  said  Sam,  when  he  had  communicated  to  Mr. 
Pickwick  the  intelligence  of  his  father's  loss. 

As  long  as  may  be  necessary,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, ''you  have  my  full  permission  to  remain." 
Sam  bowed. 

''You  will  tell  your  father,  Sam,  that  if  I  can  be  of 
any  assistance  to  him  in  his  present  situation,  I  shall  be 
most  willing  and  ready  to  lend  him  any  aid  in  my 
power,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Thankee,  sir,"  rejoined  Sam.    'Til  mention  it,  sir." 

And  with  some  expressions  of  mutual  good-will  and 
interest,  master  and  man  separated. 

It  was  just  seven  o'clock  when  Samuel  Weller,  alight- 
ing from  the  box  of  a  stage  coach  which  passed  through 
Dorking,  stood  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  Mar- 
quis of  Granby.  It  was  a  cold,  dull  evening;  the  little 
street  looked  dreary  and  dismal;  and  the  mahogan}^ 
countenance  of  the  noble  and  gallant  Marquis  seemed 
to  wear  a  more  sad  and  melancholy  expression  than  it 
was  wont  to  do,  as  it  swung  to  and  fro,  creaking  mourn- 
fully in  the  wind.  The  blinds  were  pulled  down,  and 
the  shutters  partly  closed;  of  the  knot  of  loungers 
that  usually  collected  about  the  door,  not  one  was  to  be 
seen;  the  place  was  silent  and  desolate. 

Seeing  nobody  of  whom  he  could  ask  any  preliminary 
questions,  Sam  walked  softly  in.  Glancing  round,  he 
quickly  recognized  his  parent  in  the  distance. 

The  widower  was  seated  at  a  small  round  table  in  the 
little  room  behind  the  bar,  smoking  a  pipe,  with  his  eyes 
intently  fixed  upon  the  fire.  The  funeral  had  evidently 
taken  place  that  day ;  for,  attached  to  his  hat,  which  he 
still  retained  on  his  head,  was  a  hatband  measuring 
about  a  yard  and  a  half  in  length,  which  hung  over  the 
top  rail  of  the  chair  and  streamed  negligently  down. 
Mr.  Weller  was  in  a  very  abstracted  and  contemplative 
mood ;  for,  notwithstanding  that  Sam  called  him  by 
name  several  times,  he  still  continued  to  smoke  with 
the  same  fixed  and  quiet  countenance,  and  was  only 
roused  ultimately  by  his  son's  placing  the  palm  of  his 
hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Sammy"  said  Mr.  Weller," you're  velcome." 

"I've  been  a  callin' to  you  half-a-dozen  times,"  said 
Sam,  hanging  his  hat  on  a  peg,  "but  you  didn't  hear 
me." 


35^  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

*^No,  Sammy/'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  again  looking 
thoughtfully  at  the  fire.    "  I  wos  in  a  referee,  Sammy. 

''Wot  about  ?"  inquired  Sam,  drawing  his  chair  up  to 
the  fire. 

''In  a  referee,  Sammy/'  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller, 
"regarding  her,  Samivel."  Here  Mr.  Weller  jerked  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  Dorking  churchyard,  in  mute 
explanation  that  his  words  referred  to  the  late  Mrs. 
Weller. 

"I  wos  a  thinkin',  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  eying 
his  son  with  great  earnestness,  over  his  pipe,  as  if  to 
assure  him  that  however  extraordinary  and  incredible 
the  declaration  might  appear,  it  was  nevertheless  calmly 
and  deliberately  uttered,  "I  wos  a  thinkin',  Sammy, 
that  upon  the  whole  I  wos  werry  sorry  she  wos  gone.'' 

"Veil,  and  so  you  ought  to  be,"  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  his  acquiescence  in  the  sentiment, 
and  again  fastening  his  eyes  on  the  fire,  shrouded  him- 
self in  a  cloud,  and  mused  deeply. 

"  Those  wos  werry  sensible  obserwations  as  she  made, 
Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  driving  the  smoke  away  with 
his  hand,  after  a  long  silence. 

"  Wot  obserwations  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"Them  as  she  made  arter  she  was  took  ill,"  replied 
the  old  gentleman. 

"  Wot  wos  they  ?" 

"  Somethin'  to  this  here  effect.  ^Veller,'  she  says, 
'  I 'm  af eard  I 've  not  done  by  you  quite  wot  I  ought  to 
have  done ;  you  're  a  werry  kind-hearted  man,  and  I 
might  ha'  made  your  home  more  comf  ortabler.  I  begin 
to  see  now,'  she  says,  ' ven  it's  too  late,  that  if  a  mar- 
ried 'ooman  vishes  to  be  religious,  she  should  begin  vith 
dischai-gin'  her  dooties  at  home,  and  makin'  them  as  is 
about  her  cheerful  and  happy,  and  that  vile  she  goes  to 
church,  or  chapel,  or  wot  not,  at  all  proper  times,  she 
should  be  werry  careful  not  to  conwert  this  sort  o'  thing 
into  a  excuse  for  idleness  or  self-indulgfence.  I  have 
done  this,'  she  says,  'and  I've  vasted  time  and  sub- 
stance on  them  as  has  done  it  more  than  me  ;  but  I  hope 
ven  I'm  gone,  Veller,  that  you'll  think  on  me  as  I  wos 
afore  I  know'd  them  people,  and  as  I  raly  wos  by 
natur'.'  '  Susan,'  says  I — I  wos  took  up  very  short  by 
this,  Samivel ;  I  von't  deny  it,  my  boy — '  Susan,'  I  says, 
'  you've  been  a  werry  good  vife  to  me,  altogether;  don't 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


353 


say  nothin'  at  all  about  it ;  keep  a  good  heart,  my  dear  ; 
and  you'll  live  to  see  me  punch  that  'ere  Stiggins's  head 
yet.'  She  smiled  at  this,  Samivel,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman, stifling  a  sigh  with  his  pipe,  ''but  she  died 
arter  all  !" 

''Veil,"  said  Sam,  venturing  to  offer  a  little  homely 
consolation,  after  the  lapse  of  three  or  four  minutes, 
consumed  by  the  old  gentleman  in  slowly  shaking  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  and  solemnly  smoking ;  '*vell, 
gov'ner,  ve  must  all  come  to  it,  one  day  or  another." 

"  So  we  must,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller  the  elder. 

"There's  a  Providence  in  it  all,"  said  Sam. 

"  O'  course  there  is,"  replied  his  father,  with  a  nod  of 
grave  approval.  "Wot  'ud  become  of  the  undertakers 
vithout  it,  Sammy  ?" 

Lost  in  the  immense  field  of  conjecture  opened  by 
this  reflection,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  laid  his  pipe  on  the 
table,  and  stirred  the  flre  with  a  meditative  visage. 

While  the  old  gentleman  was  thus  engaged,  a  very 
buxom-looking  cook,  dressed  in  mourning,  w^ho  had 
been  bustling  about,  in  the  bar,  glided  into  the  room, 
and  bestowing  many  smirks  of  recognition  upon  Sam, 
silently  stationed  herself  at  the  back  of  his  father's 
chair,  and  announced  her  presence  by  a  slight  cough  : 
the  which,  being  disregarded,  was  followed  by  a  louder 
one. 

"Hallo!"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  dropping  the 
poker  as  he  looked  round,  and  hastily  drew  his  chair 
away.    "  Wot's  the  matter  now  ?" 

"Have  a  cup  of  tea,  there's  a  good  soul,"  replied  the 
buxom  female,  coaxingly. 

"  I  von't,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  somewhat  boister- 
ous manner,  "  I'll  see  you—"  Mr.  Weller  hastily  checked 
himself,  and  added  in  a  low  tone,  "furder  fust." 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear;  how  adversity  does  change  people  !" 
said  the  lady,  looking  upwards. 

"  It's  the  only  thing  'twixt  this  and  the  doctor  as  shall 
change  my  condition,"  muttered  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  really  never  saw  a  man  so  cross,"  said  the  buxom 
female. 

"  Never  mind — it's  all  for  my  own  good;  vich  is  the 
reflection  vith  wich  the  penitent  schoolboy  comforted 
his  feelin's  when  they  flogged  him,"  rejoined  the  old 
gentleman. 


354  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

The  buxom  female  shook  her  head  with  a  compassion- 
ate and  sympathizing  air;  and  appealing  to  Sam,  in- 
quired whether  his  father  really  ought  not  to  make  an 
effort  to  keep  up,  and  not  give  way  to  that  lowness  of 
spirits. 

You  see,  Mr.  Samuel,"  said  the  buxom  female,  as  I 
was  telling  him  yesterday,  he  will  feel  lonely,  he  can't 
expect  but  what  he  should,  sir,  but  he  should  keep  up  a 
good  heart,  because,  dear  me,  I'm  sure  we  all  pity  his 
loss,  and  are  ready  to  do  anything  for  him;  and  there's  no 
situation  in  life  so  bad,  Mr.  Samuel,  that  it  can't  be 
mended.  Which  is  what  a  very  worthy  person  said  to 
me  when  my  husband  died."  Here  the  speaker,  putting 
her  hand  before  her  mouth,  coughed  again,  and  looked 
affectionately  at  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

As  I  don't  rekvire  any  o'  your  conversation  just  now, 
mum,  vill  you  have  the  goodness  to  re-tire  ?"  inquired 
Mr.  Weller,  in  a  grave  and  steady  voice. 

''Well,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  buxom  female,  ''I'm 
sure  I  only  spoke  to  you  out  of^ kindness." 

"  Werry  likely,  mum,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  ^'  Samivel, 
show  the  lady  out,  and  shut  the  door  arter  her." 

This  hint  .was  not  lost  upon  the  buxom  female;  for  she 
at  once  left  the  room,  and  slammed  the  door  behind  her, 
upon  which  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  falling  back  in  his  chair 
in  a  violent  perspiration,  said: 

"  Sammy,  if  I  w'os  to  stop  here  alone  vun  veek — only 
vun  veek,  my  boy-^that  'ere  'ooman  'ud  marry  me  by 
force  and  wiolence  afore  it  was  over." 

"  Wot !   Is  she  so  werry  fond  on  you  ? "  inquired  Sam. 

"  Fond!"  replied  his  father,  "I  can't  keep  her  avay 
from  me.  If  I  was  locked  up  in  a  fire-proof  chest  vith  a 
patent  Brahmin,  she'd  find  means  to  get  at  me,  Sammy." 

"  Wot  a  thing  it  is  to  be  so  sought  arter !"  observed 
Sam,  smiling. 

"  I  don't  take  no  pride  out  on  it,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller,  poking  the  fire  vehemently;  "it's  a  horrid  siti- 
wation.  I'm  actiwally  drove  out  o'  house  and  home  by 
it.  The  breath  was  scarcely  out  o'  your  poor  mother-in- 
law's  body,  ven  vun  old  'ooman  sends  me  a  pot  o'  jam, 
and  another  a  pot  o'  jelly,  and  another  brews  a  blessed 
large  jug  o'  camomile-tea,  vich  she  brings  in  vith  her 
own  hands."  Mr.  Weller  paused,  with  an  aspect  of  in- 
tense disgust,  and,  looking  round,  added  in  a  whisper, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


355 


''They  wos  all  widders,  Sammy,  all  on  'em,  'cept  the 
camomile-tea  vun,  as  wos  a  single  young  lady  o'  fifty- 
three/' 

Sam  gave  a  comical  look  in  reply,  and  the  old  gentle- 
man having  broken  an  obstinate  lump  of  coal,  with  a 
countenance  expressive  of  as  much  earnestness  and 
malice  as  if  it  had  been  the  head  of  one  of  the  widows 
last-mentioned,  said: 

''In  short,  Sammy,  I  feel  that  I  ain't  safe  anyveres 
but  on  the  box." 

"  How  are  you  safer  there  than  anyveres  else  ?  "  inter* 
rupted  Sam. 

"'Cos  a  coachman's  a  privileged  indiwidual,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller,  looking  fixedly  at  his  son.  "'Cos  a  coach- 
man may  do  vithout  suspicion  wot  other  men  may  not ; 
'cos  a  coachman  may  be  on  the  worry  amicablest  terms 
with  eighty  mile  o'  females,  and  yet  nobody  think  that 
he  ever  means  to  marry  any  vun  among  'em.  And  wot 
other  man  can  say  the  same,  Sammy  ?" 

"  Veil,  there's  somethin'  in  that,"  said  Sam. 

"If  your  gov'ner  had  been  a  coachman,"  reasoned 
Mr.  Weller,  "  do  you  s'pose  as  that  'ere  jury  'ud  ever  ha' 
convicted  him,  s'posin'  it  possible  that  the  matter  could 
ha'  gone  to  that  extremity  ?   They  dusn't  ha'  done  it." 

"  Wy  not  ?"  said  Sam,  rather  disparagingly. 

"  Wy  not  !"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller;  "  'cos  it  'ud  ha'  gone 
agin  their  consciences.  A  reg'lar  coachman's  a  sort  o' 
connectin'  link  betvixt  singleness  and  matrimony,  and 
every  practicable  man  knows  it." 

"Wot!  You  mean  they're  gen'ral  fav'rites,  and  no- 
body takes  adwantage  on  'em,  p'raps!"  said  Sam. 

His  father  nodded. 

"How  it  ever  come  to  that  'ere  pass,"  resumed  the 
parent  Weller,  "  I  can't  say.  Wy  it  is  that  long-stage 
coachmen  possess  such  insiniwations,  and  is  always 
looked  up  to — a-dored  I  may  say — by  ev'ry  young 
'ooman  in  ev'ry  town  he  vurks  through,  I  don't  know. 
I  only  know  that  so  it  is;  it's  a  reg'lation  of  natur — a 
dispensary,  as  your  poor  mother-in-law  used  to  say." 

"A  dispensation," said  Sam, correcting  the  old  gentle- 
man. 

"Worry  good,  Samivel,  a  dispensation  if  you  like  it 
better,"  returned  Mr.  Weller;  "/call  it  a  dispensary, 
and  it's  always  writ  up  so  at  the  places  vere  they 


356 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


gives  you  physic  fornothin'  in  your  own  bottles;  that's 
all." 

With  these  words  Mr.  Weller  refilled,  and  relighted 
his  pipe,  and  once  more  summoning  up  a  meditative  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  continued  as  follows: 

"  Therefore,  my  boy,  as  I  do  not  see  the  adwisability  o' 
stoppin'  here  to  be  marrid  vether  I  vant  to  or  not,  and  as 
at  the  same  time  I  do  not  vish  to  separate  myself  from, 
them  interestin'  members  of  society  altogether,  I  have 
come  to  the  determination  o'  drivin'  the  Safety,  and 
puttin'  up  vunce  more  at  the  Bell  Savage,  vich  is  my 
nat'ral-born  element,  Sammy." 

And  wot's  to  become  o'  the  bis'ness?"  inquired  Sam. 

^'  The  bis'ness,  Samivel,"  replied  the  old  gentleman, 

good-vill,  stock,  and  fixters,  vill  be  sold  by  private 
contract;  and  out  o'  the  money,  two  hundred  pound, 
agreeable  to  a  rekvest  o'  your  mother-in-law's  to  me,  a 
little  afore  she  died,  vill  be  inwested  in  your  name  in — 
wot  do  you  call  them  things  again?" 
Wot  things?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  Them  things  as  is  always  a  goin'  up  and  down  in  the 
City. 

Omnibuses?"  suggested  Sam. 
^'  Nonsense,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.      Them  things  as  is 
alvays  a  fluctooatin',  and  gettin'  theirselves  inwolved 
somehow  or  another  vith  the  national  debt,  and  the 
chequers  bills,. and  all  that." 


^^Oh!  the  funds,"  said  Sam. 
'.^  Ah!"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  '^the  funs;  two  hundred 
pound  o'  the  money  is  to  be  inwested  for  you,  Sq,mivel, 
in  the  funs;  four  and  a  half  per  cent,  reduced  counsels, 
Sammy." 

"  Werry  kind  o'  the  old  lady  to  think  o'  me,"  said  Sam, 
'•^and  I'm  werry  much  obliged  to  her." 

The  rest  vill  be  inwested  in  my  name,"  continued  the 
elder  Mr.  Weller;  and  ven  I'm  took  off  the  road,  it'll 
come  to  you,  so  take  care  you  don't  spend  it  all  at  vunst, 
iny  boy,  and  mind  that  no  widder  gets  a  inklin'  o'  your 
fortun',  or  you're  done." 

Having  delivered  this  warning,  Mr.  Weller  resumed 
his  pipe  with  a  more  serene  countenance;  the  disclosure 
of  these  matters  appearing  to  have  eased  his  mind  con- 
siderably. 

Somebody's  a  tappin'  at  the  door,"  said  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB, 


167 


Let  'em  tap/^  replied  his  father,  with  dignity. 
Sam  acted  upon  the  direction.    There  was  another 
tap,  and  then  another,  and  then  a  long  row  of  taps; 
upon  which  Sam  inquired  why  the  tapper  was  not  ad- 
iiiiitted. 

^'Hush!"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  with  apprehensive 
looks,  don't  take  no  notice  on  'em,  Sammy,  it's  vun  o' 
the  widders,  p'raps." 

No  notice  being  taken  of  the  taps,  the  unseen  visitor, 
after  a  short  lapse,  ventured  to  open  the  door  and  peep 
in.  It  was  no  female  head  that  was  thrust  in  at  the 
partially  opened  door,  but  the  long,  black  locks  and 
red  face  of  Mr.  Stiggins.  Mr.  Weller's  pipe  fell  from 
his  hands. 

The  reverend  gentleman  gradually  opened  the  door  by 
almost  imperceptible  degrees,  until  the  aperture  was  just 
wide  enough  to  admit  of  the  passage  of  his  lank  body, 
when  he  glided  into  the  room  and  closed  it  after  him 
v/ith  great  care  and  gentleness.  Turning  towards  Sam, 
and  raising  his  hands  and  eyes  in  token  of.  the  unspeak- 
able sorrow  with  which  he  regarded  the  calamity  that 
had  befallen  the  family,  he  carried  the  high-backed 
chair  to  his  old  corner  by  the  fire,  and  seating  himself 
on  the  very  edge,  drew  forth  a  brown  pocket  handker- 
chief and  applied  the  same  to  his  optics. 

While  this  was  going  forward,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller 
sat  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  eyes  wide  open,  his  hands 
planted  on  his  knees,  and  his  whole  countenance  ex- 
pressive of  absorbing  and  overwhelming  astonishment. 
Sam  sat  opposite  him  in  perfect  silence,  waiting,  with 
eager  curiosity,  for  the  termination  of  the  scene. 

Mr.  Stiggins  kept  the  brown  pocket-handkerchief  be- 
fore his  eyes  for  some  minutes,  moaning  decently  mean- 
while, and  then,  mastering  his  feelings  by  a  strong 
effort,  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  buttoned  it  up.  After 
this,  he  stirred  the  fire;  after  that,  he  rubbed  his  hands 
and  looked  at  Sam. 

Oh,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  breaking 
the  silence  in  a  very  low  voice,  ^'  here's  a  sorrowful 
affliction!" 

Sam  nodded,  very  slightly. 

''For  the  man  of  wrath,  too!"  added  Mr.  Stiggins; 
^'it  makes  a  vessel's  heart  bleed!  " 
Mr,  Weller  was  overheard  by  his  son  to  murmur  some- 


358 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


thing  relative,  to  making  a  vessel's  nose  bleed;,  but  Mr. 
Stiggins  heard  him  not. 

"  Do  you  know,  young  man/'  w^hispered  Mr.  Stiggins, 
drawing  his  chair  closer  to  Sam,  whether  she  has  left 
Emanuel  anything?" 

Who's  he?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  The  chapel,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins:  "  our  chapel: our 
fold,  Mr.  Samuel." 

''She  hasn't  left  the  fold  nothin',  nor  the  shepherd 
nothin',  nor  the  animals  nothin',"  said  Sam,  decisively; 
"  nor  the  dogs  neither." 

Mr.  Stiggins  looked  slyly  at  Sam;  glanced  at  the  old 
gentleman,  who  was  sitting  with  his  eyes  closed,  as  if 
asleep;  and  drawing  his  chair  still  nearer,  said  : 

''Nothing  for  me,  Mr.  Samuel?" 

Sam  shook  his  head. 

"  I  think  there's  something,"  said  Stiggins,  turning  as 
pale  as  he  could  turn.  "Consider,  Mr.  Samuel;  no  little 
token?" 

"  Not  so  much  as  the  vurth  o'  that  'ere  old  umbrella  o' 
yourn,"  replied  Sam. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  hesitatingly,  after  a 
few  moments'  deep  thought,  "  perhaps  she  recommended 
me  to  the  care  of  the  man  of  wrath,  Mr.  Samuel?" 

"I  think  that's  werry  likely,  from  what  he  said,"  re- 
joined Sam;  "  he  wos  a  speakin'  about  you,  jist  now." 

"Was  he,  though?"  exclaimed  Stiggins,  brightening 
up.  "Ah!  He's  changed,  I  dare  say.  We  might  live 
very  comfortably  together  now,  Mr.  Samuel,  eh?  I 
could  take  care  of  his  property  when  you  are  away — 
good  care,  you  see." 

Heaving  a  long-drawn  sigh,  Mr.  Stiggins  paused  for  a 
response.  Sam  nodded,  and  Mr.  Weller,  the  elder,  gave 
vent  to  an  extraordinary  sound,  which,  being  neither  a 
groan,  nor  a  grunt,  nor  a  gasp,  nor  a  growl,  seemed  to 
partake  in  some  degree  of  the  character  of  all  four. 

Mr.  Stiggins,  encouraged  by  this  sound,  which  he  un- 
derstood to  betoken  remorse  or  repentance,  looked 
about  him,  rubbed  his  hands,  wept,  smiled,  wept  again, 
and  then,  walking  softly  across  the  room  to  a  well-re- 
membered shelf  in  one  corner,  took  down  a  tumbler, 
and,  with  great  deliberation,  put  four  lumps  of  sugar  in 
it.  Having  got  thus  far,  he  looked  about  him  again, 
and  sighed  grievously;  with  that^  he  walked  softly  into 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB, 


359 


the  bar,  and  presently  returning  with  the  tumbler  half 
full  of  pine-apple  rum,  advanced  to  the  kettle,  which  was 
singing  gaily  on  the  hob,  mixed  his  grog,  stirred  it, 
sipped  it,  sat  down,  and  taking  a  long  and  hearty  pull 
at  the  rum  and  water,  stopped  for  breath. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller,  who  still  continued  to  make 
various  strange  and  uncouth  attempts  to  appear  asleep, 
offered  not  a  single  word  during  these  proceedings ;  but 
when  Mr.  Stiggins  stopped  for  breath,  he  darted  upon 
him,  and  snatching  the  tumbler  from  his  hand,  threw 
the  remainder  of  the  rum  and  water  in  his  face,  and  the 
glass  itself  into  the  grate.  Then,  seizing  the  reverend 
gentleman  firmly  by  the  collar,  he  suddenly  fell  to  kick- 
ing him  most  furiously:  accompanying  every  applica- 
tion of  his  top-boots  to  Mr.  Stiggins's  person  with  sundry 
violent  and  incoherent  anathemas  upon  his  limbs,  eyes, 
and  body. 

Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  '^put  my  hat  on  tight 
for  me." 

Sam  dutifully  adjusted  the  hat  with  the  long  hatband 
more  firmly  on  his  father's  head,  and  the  old  gentleman, 
resuming  his  kicking  with  greater  agility  than  before, 
tumbled  with  Mr.  Stiggins  through  the  bar,  and  through 
the  passage,  out  at  the  front  door,  and  so  into  the  street 
— the  kicking  continuing  the  whole  way,  and  increasing 
in  vehemence,  rather  than  diminishing,  every  time  the 
top-boot  was  lifted. 

It  was  a  beautiful  and  exhilarating  sight  to  see  the 
red-nosed  man  writhing  in  Mr.  Weller's  grasp,  and  his 
whole  frame  quivering  with  anguish  as  kick  followed  ✓ 
kick  in  rapid  succession;  it  was  a  still  more  exciting 
spectacle  to  behold  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  powerful  struggle, 
immersing  Mr.  Stiggins's  head  in  a  horse-trough  full  of 
water,  and  holding  it  thereuntil  he  was  half  suffocated.  ^ 

There!"  said  Mr.  Weller,  throwing  all  his  energy 
into  one  most  complicated  kick,  as  he  at  length  per- 
mitted Mr.  Stiggins  to  withdraw  his  head  from  the 
trough,  "  send  any  vun  o'  them  lazy  shepherds  here,  and 
I'll  poundhimtoa  jelly  first,  arid  drowndhim  artervards! 
Sammy,  help  me  in,  and  fill  me  a  small  glass  of  brandy. 
I'm  out  o'  breath,  my  boy." 


860  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

COMPRISING  THE  FINAL  EXIT  OF  MR.  JINGLE  AND  JOB  TROT- 
TER; WITH  A  GREAT  MORNING  OF  BUSINESS  IN  GRAY'S 
INN  SQUARE.  CONCLUDING  WITH  A  DOUBLE  KNOCK  AT 
MR.  PERKER'S  door. 

When  Arabella,  after  some  gentle  preparation,  and 
many  assurances  that  there  was  not  the  least  occasion 
for  being  low-spirited,  was  at  length  made  acquainted 
by  Mr.  Pickwick  with  the  unsatisfactory  result  of-  his 
visit  to  Birmingham,  she  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbing: 
aloud,  lamented  in  moving  terms  that  she  should  have 
been  the  unhappy  cause  of  any  estrangement  between 
a  father  and  his  son. 

''My  dear  girl/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  kindly,  ''it  is  no 
fault  of  yours.  It  was  impossible  to  foresee  that  the  old 
gentleman  would  be  so  strongly  prepossessed  against 
his  son's  marriage,  you  know.  1  am  sure,"  added  Mr. 
Pickwick,  glancing  at  her  pretty  face,  ^'he  can  have 
very  little  idea  of  the  pleasure  he  denies  himself." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Arabella,  "what 
shall  we  do,  if  he  continues  to  be  angry  with  us?" 

"  Why,  wait  patiently,  my  dear,  until  he  thinks  better 
of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  cheerfully. 

^'Biit,  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  what  is  to  become  of  Na- 
thaniel if  his  father  withdraws  his  assistance?"  urged 
Arabella. 

"In  that  case,  my  love,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I 
venture  to  prophesy  that  he  will  find  some  other  friend 
who  will  not  be  backward  in  helping  him  to  start  in  the 
world." 

The  significance  of  this  reply  was  not  so  well  disguised 
by  Mr.  Pickwick  but  that  Arabella  understood  it.  So, 
throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  kissing  him 
affectionately,  she  sobbed  louder  than  before. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  her  hand, 
"we  will  wait  here  a  few  days  longer,  and  see  whether 
he  writes  or  takes  any  other  notice  of  your  husband's 
communication.  If  not,  I  have  thought  of  half-a-dozen 
plans,  any  one  of  which  would  make  youhappj^  at  once, 
There,  my  dear — there!" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


361 


With  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  gently  pressed  Ara- 
bella's hand,  and  bade  her  dry  her  eyes,  and  not  distress 
her  husband.  Upon  which,  Arabella,  who  was  one  of 
the  best  little  creatures  alive,  put  her  handkerchief  in 
her  reticule,  and  by  the  time  Mr.  Winkle  joined  thenl, 
exhibited,  in  fall  lustre,  the  same  beaming  smiles  and 
sparkling  eyes  that  had  originally  captivated  him. 

"  This  is  m  distressing  predicament  for  these  young 
people,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  dressed  himself 
next  morning.  "  Til  walk  up  to  Perker's,  and  consult 
him  about  the  matter." 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  was  further  prompted  to  betake  him- 
self to  Gray's  Inn  Square  by  an  anxious  desire  to  come 
to  a  pecuniary  settlement  with  the  kind-hearted  little 
attorney  without  further  delay,  he  made  a  hurried  break- 
fast, and  executed  his  intention  so  speedily  that  ten 
o'clock  had  not  struck  when  he  reached  Gray's  Inn. 

It  still  wanted  ten  minutes  to  the  hour  when  he  had 
ascended  the  staircase  on  which  Perker's  chambers  were. 
The  clerks  had  not  arrived  yet,  and  he  beguiled  the  time 
by  looking  out  of  the  staircase  window. 

The  healthv  light  of  a  fine  October  morning  made  even 
the  dingy  old  houses  brighten  up  a  little:  some  of  the 
dusty  windows  actually  looking  almost  cheerful  as  the 
sun's  rays  gleamed  upon  them.  Clerk  after  clerk  has- 
tened into  the  square  by  one  or  other  of  the  entrances^ 
and  looking  up  at  the  Hall  clock,  accelerated  or  de- 
creased his  rate  of  walking  according  to  the  time  at 
which  his  office  hours  nominally  commenced;  the  half- 
past  nine  o'clock  people  suddenly  becoming  very  brisk, 
and  the  ten  o'clock  gentlemen  falling  into  a  pace  of 
most  aristocratic  slowness.  The.  clock  struck  ten,  and 
clerks  poured  in  faster  than  ever,  each  one  in  a  greater 
perspiration  than  his  predecessor.  The  noise  of  unlock- 
ing and  opening  doors  echoed  and  re-echoed  on  every 
side;  heads  appeared  as  if  by  magic  in  every  window; 
the  porters  took  up  their  stations  for  the  day;  the  slip- 
shod laundresses  hurried  off;  the  postman  ran  from  house 
to  house;  and  the  whole  legal  hive  was  in' a  bustle. 

You're  early,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  a  voice  behind 
him. 

''Ah,  Mr.  Lowten,"  replied  that  gentleman,  looking 
round,  and  recQgnizing  his  old  acquaintance. 

Precious  warm  walking,  isn't  it?"  said  Lowten,  draw- 


363  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ing  a  Bramah  key  from  his  pocket,  with  a  small  plug 
therein,  to  keep  the  dust  out. 

'^You  appear  to  feel  it  so,^^  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick, 
smiling  at  the  clerk,  who  was  literally  red-hot. 

Fve  come  along  rather,  I  can  tell  you,"  replied  Low- 
ten.  ''It  went  the  Jialf  hour  as  I  came  through  the 
Polygon.    I'm  here  before  Ifiim,  though,  so  I  don't  mind." 

Comforting  himself  with  this  reflection,J\Ir.  Lowten 
extracted  the  plug  from  the  door-key;  and  having  opened 
the  door,  replugged  and  repocketed  his  Bramah,  and 
picking  up  the  letters  which  the  postman  had  dropped 
through  the  box,  he  ushered  Mr.  Pickwick  into  the  office. 
Here,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  he  divested  himself  of 
his  coat,  put  on  a  threadbare  garment  which  he  took  out 
of  a  desk,  hung  up  his  hat,  pulled  forth  a  few  sheets  of 
cartridge  and  blotting-paper  in  alternate  layers,  and 
sticking  a  pen  behind  his  ear,  rubbed  his  hands  with  an 
air  of  great  satisfaction. 

There,  you  see,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  he  said,  ''now  I'm 
complete.  I've  got  my  office  coat  on,  and  my  pad  out, 
and  let  him  come  as  soon  as  he  likes.  You  haven't  got  a 
pinch  of  snuff  about  you,  have  you?" 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I'm  sorry  for  it,"  said  Lowten.  "Never  mind — I'll 
run  out  presently,  and  get  a  bottle  of  soda.  Don't  I 
look  rather  queer  about  the  eyes,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

The  individual  appealed  to  surveyed  Mr.  Lowten's 
eyes  from  a  distance,  and  expressed  his  opinion  that  no 
unusual  queerness  was  perceptible  in  those  features. 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Lowten.  "We  were  keep- 
ing it  up  pretty  tolerably  at  the  Stump  last  night,  and 
I'm  rather  out  of  sorts  this  morning.  Perker's  been 
about  that  business  of  yours,  by  the  bye." 

"  What  business?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick — "  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell's  costs?" 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that,"  replied  Lowten.  "  About 
getting  that  customer,  that  we  paid  the  ten  shillings  in 
the  pound  to  the  bill  discounter  for,  on  your  account- 
to  get  him  out  of  the  Fleet,  you  know — about  getting 
him  to  Demerara." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily.  "Yes. 
Well?" 

"  Well,  it's  all  arranged,"  said  Lowten,  mending  his 
pen.    "  The  agent  at  Liverpool  said  he  had  been  obliged 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


363 


to  you  many  times  when  you  were  in  business,  and  he 
would  be  glad  to  take  him  on  your  recommendation." 

''That's  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''I  am  delighted 
to  hear  it." 

But  I  say,"  resumed  Lowten,  scraping  the  back  of 
the  pen  preparatory  to  making  afresh  split,  "  ivliat  a 
soft  chap  that  other  is!" 
-  Which  other?" 

''Why,  that  servant,  or  friend,  or  whatever  he  is — 
you  know;  Trotter." 

•'Ah?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile.  "I  always 
thought  him  the  reverse."  * 

"  Well,  and  so  did  I,  from  what  little  I  saw  of  him," 
replied  Lowten;  "it  only  shows  how  one  may  be  de- 
ceived. What  do  you  think  of  his  going  to  Demerara, 
too?" 

"  What!  And  giving  up  what  was  offered  him  here!" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Treating  Perkers  offer  of  eighteen  bob  a  week,  and 
a  rise  if  he  behaved  himself,  like  dirt,"  replied  Lowten. 
" '  He  said  he  must  go  along  with  the  other  one,  and  so  they 
persuaded  Perker  to  write  again,  and  they've  got  him 
something  on  the  same  estate;  not  near  so  good,  Perker 
says,  as  a  convict  would  get  in  Nev/  South  Wales,  if  he 
appeared  at  his  trial  in  a  new  suit  of  clothes." 

"Foolish  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  glistening 
eyes.    ' '  Foolish  fellow. " 

"Oh,  it's  worse  than  foolish;  it's  downright  sneaking, 
you  know,"  replied  Lowten,  nibbing  the  pen  with  a 
contemptuous  face.  "  He  says  that  he's  the  only  friend 
he  ever  had,  and  he's  attached  to  him,  and  all  that. 
Friendship's  a  very  good  thing  in  its  way;  we  are  all 
very  friendly  and  comfortable  at  the  Stump,  for  instance, 
over  our  grog,  where  every  man  pays  for  himself;  but 
damn  hurting  yourself  for  anybody  else,  you  know!  No 
man  sliould  have  more  than  two  attachments — the  first, 
to  number  one,  and  the  second  to  the  ladies;  that's  what 
I  say — ha!  ha!"  Mr.  Lowten  concluded  with  a  loud 
laugh,  half  in  jocularity,  and  half  in  derision,  which 
was  prematurely  cut  short  by  the  sound  of  Perker's 
footsteps  on  the  stairs:  at  the  first  approach  of  which, 
he  vaulted  on  his  stool  with  an  agility  most  remarkable, 
and  wrote  intensely. 

The  greeting  between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  profes- 


364  •POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


sional  adviser  was  warm  and  cordial;  the  client  was 
scarcely  ensconsed  in  the  attorney's  arm-chair,  how- 
ever, when  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  voice 
inquired  whether  Mr.  Perker  was  within. 

''Hark!"  said  Perker,  ''that's  one  of  our  vagabond 
friends — Jingle  himself,  my  dear  sir.  Will  you  see 
him?" 

"What  do  you  think?"  inquired  Mr,  Pickwick.  hesi= 
tating. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  had  better.  Here,  you  sir,  what's 
your  name,  walk  in,  will  you?" 

In  compliance  with  this  unceremonious  invitation, 
Jingle  and  Job  walked  into  the  room,  but,  seeing  Mn 
Pickwick,  stopped  short  in  some  confusion. 

"  Well,"  said  Perker,  "don't  you  know  that  gentle- 
man ?" 

"  Good  reason  to,"  replied  Jingle,  stepping  forward. 
"Mr.  Pickwick — deepest  obligations — life  preserver — 
made  a  man  of  me — you  shall  never  repent  it,  sir." 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"You  look  much  better." 

"Thanks  to  you,  sir — great  change — Majesty's  Fleet — 
unwholesome  place — very,"  said  Jingle,  shaking  his 
head.  He  was  decently  and  cleanly  dressed,  and  so  was 
Job,  who  stood  bolt  upright  behind  him,  staring  at  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  a  visage  of  iron. 

"When  do  they  go  to  Liverpool?"  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, half  aside  to  Perker. 

"  This  evening,  sir,  at  seven  o'clock,"  said  Job,  taking 
one  step  forward.  "  By  the  heavy  coach  from  the  city, 
sir." 

"Are  your  places  taken?" 

"  They  are,  sir,"  replied  Job. 

"You  have  fully  made  up  your  mind  to  go?^ 

"  I  have,  sir,"  answered  Job. 

"With  regard  to  such  an  outfit  as  was  indispensable 
for  Jingle,"  said  Perker,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick 
aloud,  "  I  have  taken  upon  myself  to  make  an  arrange- 
ment for  the  deduction  of  a  small  sum  from  his  quarterly 
salary,  which,  being  for  only  one  year,  and  regularly 
remitted,  will  provide  for  that  expense.  I  entirely  dis- 
approve of  your  doing  anything  for  him,  my  dear  sir, 
which  is  not  dependent  on  his  own  exertions  and  good 
conduct." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


365 


Certainly/'  interposed  Jingle,  with  great  firmness. 
"  Clear  head — man  of  the  world — quite  right — perfectly." 

^^By  compounding  with  his  creditor,  releasing  his 
clothes  from  the  pawnbroker's,  relieving  him  in  prison, 
and  paying  for- his  passage,"  continued  Perker,  witiiout 
noticing  Jingle's  observation,  ''you  have  already  lost 
upwards  of  fifty  pounds." 

^'Not  lost,"  said  Jingle,  hastily.  Pay  it  all — stick  to 
business — cash  up — every  farthing.  Yellow  fever,  per- 
haps— can't  help  that — if  "^not — "  Here  Mr.  Jingle  paused, 
and  striking  the  crown  of  his  hat  with  great  violence, 
passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  and  sat  down. 

"  He  means  to  say,"  said  Job,  advancing  a  few  paces, 
^'that,  if  he  is  not  carried  off  by  the  fever,  he  will  pay 
the  money  back  again.  If  he  lives,  he  will,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. I  will  see  it  done.  I  know  he  will,  sir,"  said  Job, 
with  energy.    ^'I  could  undertake  to  swear  it." 

^'Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  be- 
stowing a  score  or  two  of  frowns  upon  Perker,  to  stop 
his  summary  of  benefits  conferred,  which  the  little 
attorney  obstinately  disregarded,  "  you  must  be  careful 
not  to  play  any  more  desperate  cricket  matches,  Mr. 
Jingle,  or  to  renew  your  acquaintance  with  Sir  Thomas 
Blazo,  and  I  have  little  doubt  of  your  preserving  your 
health." 

Mr.  Jingle  smiled  at  this  sally,  but  looked  rather 
foolish  notwithstanding;  so  Mr.  Pickwick  changed  the 
subject  by  saying: 

"  You  aon't  happen  to  know,  do  you,  what  has  become 
of  another  friend  of  yours — a  more  humble  one,  whom  I 
saw  at  Rochester?" 

'' Dismal  Jemmy?"  inquired  Jingle. 

''Yes." 

Jingle  shook  his  head. 

"  Clever  rascal — queer  fellow,  hoaxing  genius — Job's 
brother." 

"Job's  brother!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick.*  "Well, 
now  I  look  at  him  closely,  there  is  a  likeness." 

"  We  ^  were  ahvays  considered  like  each  other,  sir," 
said  Jol)^with  a  cunning  look  just  lurking  in  the  corners 
of  his  eyes,  "only  I  was  really  of  a  serious  nature,  and 
he  never  was.  He  emigrated  to  America,  sir,  in  conse- 
quence of  being  too  much  sought  after  here  to  be  com-^ 
fortable;  and  has  never  been  heard  of  since," 


366  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


^^That  accounts  for  my  not  having  received  the  *  page 
from  the  romance  of  real  life/  which  he  promised  me 
one  morning  when  he  appeared  to  be  contemplating 
suicide  on  Rochester  Bridge,  I  suppose/'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, smiling.  "I  need  not  inquire  whether  his  dismal 
behaviour  was  natural  or  assumed." 

^^He  could  assume  anything,  sir,''  said  Job.  ^^You 
may  consider  yourself  very  fortunate  in  having  escaped 
him  so  easily.  On  intimate  terms  he  would  have  been 
even  a  more  dangerous  acquaintance  than — "  Job  looked 
at  Jingle,  hesitated,  and  finally  added,  'Hhan — than — 
myself  even." 

"  A  hopeful  family  yours,  Mr.  Trotter,"  said  Perker, 
sealing  a  letter  which  he  had  just  finished  writing. 

^'Yes,  sir,"  replied  Job.      Very  much  so/' 

"  Well,"  said  the  little  man,  laughing,  I  hope  you  are 
going  to  disgrace  it.  Deliver  this  letter  to  the  agent 
when  you  reach  Liverpool,  and  let  me  advise  you,  gen- 
tlemen, not  to  be  too  knowing  in  the  W est  Indies.  If 
you  throw  away  this  chance,  you  will  both  richly  de- 
serve to  be  hanged,  as  I  sincerely  trust  you  will  be.  And 
now  you  had  better  leave  Mr.  Pickwick  and  me  alone, 
for  we  have  other  matters  to  talk  over,  and  time  is 
precious."  As  Perker  said  this,  he  looked  towards  the 
door,  with  an  evident  desire  to  render  the  leave-taking 
a.s  brief  as  possible. 

It  was  brief  enough  on  Mr.  Jingle's  part.  He  thanked 
the  little  attorney  in  a  few  hurried  words  for  the  kind- 
ness and  promptitude  with  which  he  had  rendered  his 
assistance,  and,  turning  to  his  benefactor,  stood  for  a 
few  seconds  as  if  irresolute  what  to  say  or  how  to  act. 
Job  Trotter  relieved  his  perplexity;  for,  with  a  humble, 
grateful  bow  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  took  his  friend  gently 
by  the  arm,  and  led  him  away. 

'^A  worthy  couple!"  said  Perker,  as  the  door  closed 
behind  them. 

I  h#pe  they  may  becom^e  so,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

What  do  you  think?  Is  there  any  chance  of  their  per- 
manent reformation?" 

Perker  shrugged  his  shoulders  doubtfully,  but  ob- 
serving Mr.  Pickwick's  anxious  and  disappointed  look, 
rejoined: 

J'  Of  course  there  is  a  chance.  I  hope  it  may  prove  a 
good  one.    They  are  unquestionably  penitent  now;  but 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  367 

then,  you  know,  they  have  the  recollection  of  very  recent 
suffering  fresh  upon  them.  What  they  may  become, 
when  that  fades  away,  is  a  problem  that  neither  you 
nor  I  can  solve.  However,  my  dear  sir,  added  Perker, 
laying  his  hand  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  shoulder,  ^^your  ob- 
ject is  equally  honourable,  whatever  the  result  is. 
Whether  that  species  of  benevolence  which  is  so  very 
cautioifs  and  long-sighted  that  it  is  seldom  exercised  at 
all,  lest  its  owner  should  be  imposed  upon,  and  so 
wounded  in  his  self-love,  be  real  charity,  or  a  worldly 
counterfeit,  I  leave  to  wiser  heads  than  mine  to  deter- 
mine. But  if  those  two  fellows  were  to  commit  a  bur- 
glary to-morrow,  my  opinion  of  this  action  would  be 
equally  high.'^ 

^ith  these  remarks,  which  were  delivered  in  a  much 
more  animated  and  earnest  manner  than  is  usual  in 
legal  gentlemen,  Perker  drew  his  chair  to  his  desk,  and 
listened  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  recital  of  old  Mr.  Winkle's 
obstinacy. 

''Give  him  a  week/' said  Perker,  nodding  his  head 
prophetically. 

''Do  you  think  he  will  come  round?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  I  think  he  will,"  rejoined  Perker.  "  If  not,  we  must 
try  the  young  lady's  persuasion  ;  and  that  is  what  any- 
body but  you  would  have  done  first." 

Mr.  Perker  was  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  with  various 
grotesque  contractions  of  countenance,  eulogistic  of  the 
persuasive  powers  appertaining  unto  young  ladies,  M'^hen 
the  murmur  of  inquiry  and  answer  was  heard  in  the 
outer  office,  and  Lowten  tapped  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in!"  cried  the  little  man. 

The  clerk  came  in,  and  shut  the  door  after  him,  with 
great  mystery. 

"What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Perker. 
"  You're  wanted,  sir." 
"  Who  wants  me  ?  " 

Lowten  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  coughed. 
"Who  wants  me  ?  can't  you  speak,  Mr.  Lowten?" 
"Why,  sir,"  replied  Lowten,  "  it's  Dodson;  and  Fogg 
is  with  him." 

"Bless  my  life  ! "  said  the  little  man,  looking  at  his 
watch,  "  I  dippointed  them  to  be  here  at  half -past  eleven, 
to  settle  that  matter  of  yours,  Pickwick.    I  gave  them 


368  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 


an  undertaking  on  which  they  sent  down  your  discharge; 
it's  very  awkward,  my  dear  sir  ;  what  will  you  do  ? 
Would  you  like  to  step  into  the  next  room?" 

The  next  room  being  the  identical  room  in  which 
Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  were,  Mr.  Pickwick  replied 
that  he  would  remain  where  he  was  :  the  more  espe- 
cially as  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  ought  to  be  ashamed 
to  look  him  in  the  face,  instead  of  his  being  askamed 
to  see  them;  which  latter  circumstance  he  begged  Mr. 
Perker  to  note,  with  a  glowing  countenance  and  many 
marks  of  indignation. 

"  Very  well,  my  dear  sir,  very  well,"  replied  Perker. 
"  I  can  only  say,  that  if  you  expect  either  Dodson  or 
Fogg  to  exhibit  any  symptoms  of  shame  or  confusion 
at  having  to  look  you,  or  anybody  else,  in  the  face,  you 
are  the  most  sanguine  man  in  your  expectations  that  / 
ever  met  with.    Show  them  in,  Mr.  Lowten." 

Mr.  Lowten  disappeared  with  a  grin,  and  immediately 
returned,  ushering  in  the  firm  in  due  form  of  precedence: 
Dodson  first,  and  Fogg  afterwards. 

"  You  have  seen  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  believe  ?  "  said  Per- 
ker to  Dodson,  inclining  his  pen  in  the  direction  where 
that  gentleman  was  seated. 

'*How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Pickwick?"  said  Dodson,  in  a 
loud  voice. 

"  Dear  me,"  cried  Fogg,  '^how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick? I  hope  you  are  well,  sir..  I  thought  I  knew  the 
face,"  said  Fogg,  drawing  up  a  chair,  and  looking  round 
him  with  a  smile. 

Mr.  Pickwick  bent  his  head,  very  slightly,  in  answer 
to  these  salutations,  and  seeing  Fogg  pull  a  bundle  of 
papers  from  his  coat-pocket,  rose  and  walked  to  the 
window. 

There  is  no  occasion  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  move,  Mr. 
Perker,"  said  Fogg,  untying  the  red  tape  which  encir- 
cled the  little  bundle,  and  smiling  again,  more  sweetly 
than  before.  ^^Mr.  Pickwick  is  pretty  well  acquainted 
with  these  proceedings;  there  are  no  secrets  between  us, 
I  think.    He!  he!  he!" 

"  Not  many,  I  think,"  said  Dodson.  "  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !" 
Then  both  the  partners  laughed  together — pleasantly 
and  cheerfully,  as  men  who  are  going  to  receive  money 
often  do. 

^^We  shall  make  Mr.  Pickwick  pay  for  peeping,"  said 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


369 


Fogg,  with  considerable  native  humour,  as  he  unfolded 
his  papers.  ''The  amount  of  the  taxed  costs  is  one 
hundred  and  thirty-three,  six,  four,  Mr.  Perker.*' 

There  was  a  great  comparing  of  papers,  and  turning 
over  of  leaves,  by  Fogg  and  Perker,  after  this  statement 
of  profit  and  loss,  during  which  Dodson  said  in  an  affable 
manner  to  Mr.  Pickwick: 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  looking  quite  so  stout  as  when 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  last,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

''Possibly  not,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had 
been  flashing  forth  looks  of  fierce  indignation,  without 
producing  the  smallest  effect  on  either  of  the  sharp  prac- 
titioners; "1  believe  lam  not,  sir.  I  have  been  perse- 
cuted and  annoyed  by  scoundrels  of  late,  sir." 

Perker  coughed  violently,  and  asked  Mr.  Pickwick 
whether  he  wouldn't  like  to  look  at  the  morning  paper; 
to  which  inquiry  Mr.  Pickwick  returned  a  most  decided 
negative. 

"True,"  said  Dodson,  "I  dare  say  you  have  been  an- 
noyed in  the  Fleet;  there  are  some  odd  gentry  there. 
Whereabouts  were  your  apartments,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

"  My  one  room,"  replied  that  much  injured  gentleman^ 
"was  on  the  Coffee-room  flight." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  Dodson.  "I  believe  that  it  is  a 
very  pleasant  part  of  the  establishment." 

"  Very,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  drily. 

There  was  a  coolness  about  all  this  which,  to  a  gen- 
tleman of  an  excitable  temperament,  had,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, rather  an  exasperating  tendency.  Mr. 
Pickwick  restrained  his  wrath  by  gigantic  efforts;  but 
when  Perker  wrote  a  cheque  for  the  whole  amount,  and 
Fogg  deposited  it  in  a  small  pocket-book,  with  a  tri- 
umphant smile  playing  over  his  pimply  features,  which 
communicated  itself  likewise  to  the  stern  countenance 
of  Dodson,  he  felt  the  blood  in  his  cheeks  tingling  with 
indignation. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Dodson,"  said  Fogg,  putting  up  the 
pocket-book  and  drawing  on  his  gloves,  "I  am  at  your 
service." 

"Very  good,"  said  Dodson,  rising,  "I  am  quite 
ready." 

"  I  am  very  happy,"  said  Fogg,  softened  by  the  cheque, 
"to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  making  Mr.  Pickwick's 
acquaintance.    I  hope  you  don't  think  quite  so  badly  of 


370 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


us,  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  when  we  first  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you." 

I  hope  not/'  said  Dodson,  with  the  high  tone  of  ca- 
lumniated virtue.  Mr.  Pickwick  now  knows  us  better, 
I  trust;  whatever  your  opinion  of  gentlemen  of  our  pro- 
fession may  be,  I  beg  to  assure  you,  sir,  that  I  bear  no 
ill-will  or  vindictive  feeling  towards  you  for  the  senti- 
ments you  thought  proper  to  express  in  our  office  in 
Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill,  on  the  occasion  to  which  my 
partner  has  referred." 

^^Oh,  no,  no;  nor  I,"  said  Fogg,  in  a  most  forgiving 
manner. 

'^Our  conduct,  sir,"  said  Dodson^  *^will  speak  for  it- 
self, and  justify  itself,  I  hope,  upon  every  occasion.  We 
have  been  in  the  profession  soine  years,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  have  been  honoured  with  the  confidence  of  many  ex- 
cellent clients.    I  wish  you  good  morning,  sir." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  jPickwick,"  said  Fogg;  so  saying 
he  put  his  umbrella  under  his  arm,  drew  off  his  right 
glove,  and  extended  the  hand  of  reconciliation  to  that 
most  indignant  gentleman:  who,  thereupon,  thrust  his 
hands  beneath  his  coat  tails,  and  eyed  the  attorney  with 
looks  of  scornful  amazement. 

^^Lowten!"  cried  Perker  at  this  moment,  '^open  the 
door." 

'•Wait  one  instant,'^  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  Perker,  I 
will  speak." 

My  dear  sir,  pray  let  the  matter  rest  where  it  is," 
said  the  little  attorney,  who  had  been  in  a  state  of  nerv- 
ous apprehension  during  the  v/hole  interview;  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, I  beg — " 

''I  will  not  be  put  down,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
hastily.  ''Mr.  Dodson,  you  have  addressed  some  re- 
marks-to  me." 

Dodson  turned  round,  bent  his  head  meekly,  and 
smiled. 

"Some  remarks  to  me,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick,  al- 
most breathless;  "and  your  partner  has  tendered  me  his 
hand,  and  you  have  both  assumed  a  tone  of  forgiveness 
and  high-mindedness,  which  is  an  extent  of  impudence 
that  I  was  not  prepared  for,  even  in  you." 

"  What,  sir!"  exclaimed  Dodson. 

"What,  sir!"  reiterated  Fogg. 
Do  you  know  that  I  have  been  the  victim  of  your 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


371 


plots  and  conspiracies?"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Do 
you  know  that  I  am  the  man  whom  you  have  been  im- 
prisoning and  robbing?  Do  you  know  that  you  were  the 
attorneys  for  the  plaintiff,  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick?" 

''Yes,  sir,  we  do  know  it,"  replied  Dodson. 

''Of  course  we  know  it,  sir,"  rejoined  Fogg,  slapping 
his  pocket — perhaps  by  accident. 

"I  see  that  you  recollect  it  with  satisfaction,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  attempting  to  call  up  a  sneer  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  and  failing  most  signally  in  so  doing.  "  Al- 
though I  have  long  "been  anxious  to  tell  you,  in  plain 
terms,  whatjny  opinion  of  you  is,  I  should  have  let  even 
this  opportunity  pass,  in  deference  to  my  friend  Perker's 
wishes,  but  for  the  unwarrantable  tone  you  have  as- 
sumed, and  your  insolent  familiarity — I  say  insolent 
familiarity,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  upon  Fogg 
with  a  fierceness  of  gesture  which  caused  that  person  to 
retreat  towards  the  door  with  great  expedition. 

"Take  care,  sir,"  said  Dodson,  who,  although  he  was 
the  biggest  man  of  the  party,  had  prudently  intrenched 
himself  behind  Fogg,  and  was  speaking  over  his  head 
with  a  very  pale  face.  "  Let  him  assault  you,  Mr.  Fogg; 
don't  return  it  .on  any  account." 

"jSTo,  no,  I  won't  return  it,"  said  Fogg,  falling  back  a 
little  more  as  he  spoke;  to  the  evident  relief  of  his  part- 
ner, who,  by  these  means,  was  gradually  getting  into 
the  outer  office. 

"You  are,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  resuming  the 
thread  of  his  discourse,  "  you  are  a  well-matched  pair 
of  mean,  rascally,  pettifogging  robbers." 

'•  Well,"  interposed  Perker,  "  is  that  all?" 

"  It  is  all  summed  up  in  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick: 
"they  are  mean,  rascally,  pettifogging  robbers." 

"There!"  said  Perker,  in  a  most  conciliatory  tone. 
"  My  dear  sirs,  he  has  said  all  he  has  to  say:  now  pray 
go.    Lowten,  is  that  door  open?" 

Mr.  Lowten,  with  a  distant  giggle,  replied  in  the 
affirmative. 

"There,  there — good  morning — good  morning — now 
pray,  my  dear  sirs — Mr.  Lowten,  the  door!"  cried  the 
litcle  man,  pushing  Dodson  and  Fogg,  nothing  loth,  out 
of  the  office;  "this  way,  my  dear  sirs — now' pray  don't 
l^rolong  this— dear  me— Mr.  Lowten— the  door,  sir — why 
don't  you  attend?" 


372  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''If  there's  law  in  England,  sir/'  said  Dodson,  looking 
towards  Mr.  Pickwick  as  he  put  on  his  hat,  ''you  shall 
smart  for  this." 

"  You  are  a  couple  o'f  mean — " 

"  Remember,  sir,  you'll  pay  dearly  for  this,"  said  Fogg. 

*' — Rascally,  pettifogging  robbers!"  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  taking  not  the  least  notice  of  the  threats  that 
were  addressed  to  him. 

"Robbers!"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  running  to  the  stair- 
head as  the  two  attorneys  descended. 

"Robbers!"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  breaking  from 
Lowten  and  Perker,  and  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the 
staircase  window.  * 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  in  his  head  again  his  coun- 
tenance was  smiling  and  placid;  and,  walking  quietly 
back  into  the  office,  he  declared  that  he  had  now  re- 
moved a  great  weight  from  his  mind,  and  that  he  felt 
perfectly  comfortable  and  happy. 

Perker  said  nothing  at  all  until  he  had  emptied  his 
snuff-box  and  sent  Lowten  out  to  fill  it,  when  he  was 
seized  with  a  fit  of  laughing,  which  lasted  for  five 
minutes;  at  the  expiration  of  which  time  he  said  that  he 
supposed  he  ought  to  be  very  angry,  but  he  couldn't 
think  of  the  business  seriously  yet — when  h^  could,  he 
would  be. 

"Well,  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "let  me  have  a 
settlement  with  you." 

"Of  the  same  kind  as  the  last?"  inquired  Perker,  with 
another  laugh. 

"Not  exactly,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  drawing  out 
his  pocket-book,  and  shaking  the  little  man  heartily  by 
the  hand,  "I  only  mean  a  pecuniary  settlement.  You 
have  done  me  many  acts  of  kindness  that  I  can  never 
repay,  and  have  no  wish  to,  for  I  prefer  continuing  the 
obligation." 

With  this  preface  the  two  friends  dived  into  some 
very  complicated  accounts  and  vouchers,  which,  having 
been  duly  displayed  and  gone  through  by  Perker,  were 
at  once  discharged  by  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  many  pro- 
fessions of  esteem  and  friendship. 

They  had  no  sooner  arrived  at  this  point  than  a  most 
violent  and  startling  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door;  it 
was  not  an  ordinary  double  knock,  but  a  constant  and 
uninterrupted  succession  of  the  loudest  single  raps,  as  if 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


373 


the  knocker  were  endowed  with  perpetual  motion,  or  the 
person  outside  had  forgotten  to  leave  off. 

''Dear  me,  what's  that!"  exclaimed  Perker,  starting. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  knock  at  the  door/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
as  if  there  could  be  the  smallest  doubt  of  the  fact! 

The  knocker  made  a  more  energetic  reply  than  words 
could  have  yielded,  for  it  continued  to  hammer  with 
surprising  force  and  noise,  without  a  moment's  cessation. 

''Dear  me!"  said  Perker,  ringing  his  bell,  "we  shall 
alarm  the  Inn.    Mr.  Lowten,  don't  you  hear  a  knock?" 

"  I'll  answer  the  door  in  one  moment,  sir,"  replied  the 
clerk. 

The  knocker  appeared  to  hear  the  response,  and  to 
assert  that  it  was  quite  impossible  he  could  wait  so  long. 
It  made  a  stupendous  uproar. 

"  It's  quite  dreadful,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  stopping  his 
ears. 

"Make  haste,  Mr.  Lowten,"  Perker  called  out,  ^'we 
shall  have  the  panels  beaten  in." 

Mr.  Lowten,  who  was  washing  his  hands  in  a  dark 
closet,  hurried  to  the  door,  and  turning  the  handle,  be- 
held the  appearance  which  is  described  in  the  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CONTAINING  SOME  PARTICULARS  RELATIVE  TO  THE  DOUBLE 
KNOCK,  AND  OTHER  MATTERS,  AMONG  WHICH  CERTAIN 
INTERESTING  DISCLOSURES  RELATIVE  TO  MR.  SNODGRASS 
AND  A  YOUNG  LADY  ARE  BY  NO  MEANS  IRRELEVANT  TO 
THIS  HISTORY. 

The  object  that  presented  itself  to  the  eyes, of  the 
astonished  clerk  was  a  boy — a  wonderfully  fat  boy — 
habited  as  a  serving  lad,  standing  upright  on  the  mat, 
with  his  eyes  closed  as  if  in  sleep.  He  had  never  seen 
such  a  fat  boy,  in  or  out  of  a  travelling  caravan;  and 
this,  coupled  with  the  utter  calmness  and  repose  of  his 
appearance,  so  very  different  from  what  was  reasonably 
to  have  been  expected  of  the  inflicter  of  such  knocks, 
smote  him  with  wonder. 

''What's  the  matter?"  inquired  the  clerk. 

The  extraordinary  boy  replied  not  a  word;  but  he 


374  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

nodded  once,  and  seemed,  to  the  clerk's  imagination,  to 
snore  feebly. 

•'Where  do  you  come  from?"  inquired  the  clerk. 
.  The  boy  made  no  sign.    He  breathed  heavily,  but  in 
all  other  respects  was  motionless. 

The  clerk  repeated  the  question  thrice,  and  receiving 
no  answer,  prepared  to  shut  the  door,  when  the  boy  sud- 
denly opened  his  eyes,  winked  several  times,  sneezed 
once,  and  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  repeat  the  knocking. 
Finding  the  door  open,  he  stared  about  him  with  aston- 
ishment, and  at  length  fixed  his  eyes  on  Mr.  Lowten's 
face. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  knock  in  that  way  for?"  in- 
quired the  clerk,  angrily. 

''Which  way?"  said  the  boy,  in  a  slow,  sleepy  voice. 

'  'Why,  like  forty  hackney  coachmen, "  replied  the  clerk. 

"Because  master  said  I  wasn't  to  leave  off  knocking 
till  they  opened  the  door,  for  fear  I  should  go  to  sleep," 
said  the  boy. 

"Well,"  said  the  clerk,  "what  message  have  you 
brought!" 

"He's  down  stairs,"  rejoined  the  boy. 
"Who?" 

"  Master.  lie  wants  to  know  whether  you're  at  home." 
.  Mr.  Lowten  bethought  himself,  at  this  juncture,  of 
looking  out  of  the  window.  Seeing  an  open  carriage, 
with  a  hearty  old  gentleman  in  it,  looking  up  very  anx- 
iously, he  ventured  to  beckon  him;  on  which  the  old 
gentleman  jumped  out  directly. 

"That's  your  master  in  the  carriage,  I  suppose?"  said 
Lowten. 

The  boy  nodded. 

All  further  inquiries  were  superseded  by  the  appear- 
ance of  old  Wardle,  who,  running  up  stairs  and  just 
recognizing  Lowten,  passed  at  once  into  Mr.  Perker's 
room. 

"  Pickwick!"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  your  hand,  my 
boy!  Why  have  I  never  heard  until  the  day  before  yes- 
terday of  your  suffering  yourself  to  be  cooped  up  in  jail? 
and  why  did  you  let  him  do  it,  Perker?" 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Perker,  with 
a  smile  and  a  pinch  of  snuff,  "you  know  how  obstinate 
he  is." 

"  Of  course  I  do,  of  course  I  do,"  replied  the  old  gen- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


373 


tleman.  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  him,  notwithstand- 
ing.   I  will  not  lose  sight  of  him  again  in  a  hurry." 

With  these  words  Wardle  shook  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand 
once  more,  and,  having  done  the  same  by  Perker,  threw 
himself  into  an  arm-chair;  his  jolly  red  face  shining 
again  with  smiles  and  health. 

''Well,"  said  Wardle,  ''here  are  pretty  goings  on — a 
pinch  of  your  snuff,  Perker,  my  boy — never  were  such 
times,  eh?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Mean!"  replied  Wardle,  "why,  I  think  the  girls  are 
all  running  mad;  that's  no  news,  you'll  say?  perhaps 
it's  not;  but  it's  true,  for  all  that." 

"  You  have  not  come  up  to  London,  of  all  places  in 
the  world,  to  tell  us  that,  my  dear  sir,  have  you?"  in- 
quired Perker. 

"No,  not  altogether,"  replied  Wardle;  "though it  was 
the  main  cause  of  my  coming.    How's  Arabella?" 

"Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "and  will  be  de- 
lighted to  see  you,  I  am  sure." 

"Black-eyed  little  jilt!"  replied  Wardle.  "I  had  a 
great  idea  of  marrying  her  myself,  one  of  these  odd 
days.    But  I  am  glad  of  it  too,  very  glad." 

"How  did  the  intelligence  reach  you?"  asked  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  it  came  to  my  girls,  of  course,"  replied  Wardle. 
"Arabella  wrote  the  day  before  yesterday,  to  say  she 
had  made  a  stolen  match  without  her  husband's  father's 
consent,  and  so  you  had  gone  down  to  get  it,  when  his 
refusing  it  couldn't  prevent  the  match,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  I  thought  it  a  very  good  time  to  say  something 
serious  to  my  girls;  so  I  said  Vv^hat  a  dreadful  thing  it  was 
that  children  should  marry  without  their  parents'  con- 
sent, and  so  forth;  but,  bless  your  hearts,  I  couldn't 
make  the  least  impression  upon  them.  They  thought  it 
such  a  much  more  dreadful  thing  that  there  sliouldhave 
been  a  wedding  without  bridesmaids,  that  I  might  as 
well  have  preached  to  Joe  himself." 

Here  the  old  gentleman  stopped  to  laugh;  and  having 
done  so  to  his  heart's  content,  presently  resumed: 

"But  this  is  not  the  best  of  it,  it  seems.  This  is  only 
half  the  love-making  and  plotting  that  hav^e  been  going 
forward.  We  have  been  walking  on  mines  for  the  last 
six  months,  and  they're  sprung  at  last." 


376  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  turn- 
ing pale;  ''no  other  secret  marriage,  I  hope?" 

"No,  no/'  replied  old  Wardle;  "not  so  bad  as  that — 
no." 

"What  then?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick;  "am  I  inter- 
ested in  it?" 

"  Shall  I  answer  that  question,  Perker?"  said  Wardle. 
"If  you  don't  commit  yourself  by  doing  so,  my  dear 
sir." 

"Well,  then,  you  are,"  said  Wardle. 
"How?"  asked  Mr.  Pickwick,  anxiously.    "  In  what 
way?" 

"  Really,"  replied  Wardle,  "  you're  such  a  fiery  sort  of 
young  fellow,  that  I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell  you;  but, 
however,  if  Perker  will  sit  between  us  to  prevent  mis- 
chief, I'll  venture. 

Having  closed  the  room-door  and  fortified  himself  with 
another  application  to  Perker's  snuff-box,  the  old  gen- 
tleman proceeded  with  his  great  disclosure  in  these 
words: 

"The  fact  is,  that  my  daughter  Bella — Bella,  that 
married  young  Trundle,  you  know." 

"Yes,  yes,  we  know,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  impatiently. 

"  Don't  alarm  me  at  the  very  beginning.  My  daughter 
Bella:  Emily  having  gone  to  bed  with  a  headache, 
after  she  had  read  Arabella's  letter  to  me:  sat  herself 
down  by  my  side  the  other  evening,  and  began  to  talk 
over  this  marriage  affair.  'Well,  pa,'  she  says,  'what 
do  you  think  of  it?'  'Why,  my  dear,'  I  said,  'I  suppose 
it's  all  very  well;  I  hope  it's  for  the  best.'  I  answered 
in  this  way  because  I  was  sitting  before  the  fire  at  the 
time,  drinking  my  grog  rather  thoughtfully,  and  I  knew 
my  throwing  in  an  undecided  word  now  and  then  would 
induce  her  to  continue  talking.  Both  my  girls  are  pict- 
ures of  their  dear  mother,  and  as  I  grow  old  I  like  to 
sit  with  only  them  by  me;  for  their  voices  and  looks 
carry  me  back  to  the  happiest  period  of  my  life,  and 
make  me,  for  the  moment,  as  young  as  I  used  to  be  then, 
though  not  quite  so  light-hearted.  '  It's  quite  a  mar- 
riage of  affection,  pa,'  said  Bella,  after  a  short  silence. 
'  Yes,  my  dear,'  said  I,  'but  such  marriages  do  not  always 
turn  out  the  happiest.' " 

"I  question  that,  mind,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
warmly. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


377 


Very  good/'  responded  Wardle,  ^' question  anything 
you  like  when  it's  your  turn  to  speak,  but  don't  inter- 
rupt me." 

''I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Granted,*'  replied  V/ ardle,  ^  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you 
express  your  opinion  against  marriages  of  affection,  pa,' 
said  Bella,  colouring  a  little.  '  I  was  wrong;  I  ought  not 
to  have  said  so,  my  dear,  either,'  said  I,  patting  her  cheek 
as  kindly  as  a  rough  old  fellow  like  me  could  pat  it,  "  for 
your  mother's  was  one,  and  so  was  yours.'  'It's  not 
that  I  meant,  pa,'  said  Bella.  '  The  fact  is,  pa,  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you  about  Emily.'" 

Mr.  Pickwick  started. 
What's  the  matter  now?"  inquired  Wardle,  stopping 
in  his  narrative. 

•'Nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  Pray  go  on." 

"1  never  could  spin  out  a  story,"  said  Wardle,  abruptly. 
"  It  must  come  out,  sooner  or  later,  and  it'll  save  us  all 
a  gf  eat  deal  of  time  if  it  comes  at  once.  The  long  and 
the  short  of  it  is,  then,  that  Bella  at  last  mustered  up 
courage  to  tell  me  that  Emily  was  very  unhappy  ;  that 
she  and  your  young  friend  Snodgrass  had  been  in  con- 
stant correspondence  and  communication  ever  since  last 
Christmas;  that  she  had  very  dutifully  made  up  her 
mind  to  run  away  with  him,  in  laudable  imitation  of  her 
old  friend  and  schoolfellow;  but  that  having  some  com- 
punctions of  conscience  on  the  subject,  inasmuch  as  I 
had  always  been  rather  kindly  disposed  to  both  of  them, 
they  had  thought  it  better  in  the  first  instance  to  pay  me 
the  compliment  of  asking  whether  I  would  havQ  any  ob- 
jection to  their  being  married  in  the  usual  matter-of-fact 
manner.  There  now,  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  you  can  make  it 
convenient  to  reduce  your  eyes  to  their  usual  size  again, 
and  to  let  me  hear  what  you  think  we  ought  to  do,  I 
shall  feel  rather  obliged  to  you!" 

The  testy  manner  in  which  the  hearty  old  gentleman 
uttered  this  last  sentence  was  not  wholly  unwarranted; 
for  Mr.  Pickwick's  face  had  settled  down  into  an  expres- 
sion of  blank  amazement  and  perplexity,  quite  curious 
to  behold. 

^'Snodgrass! — since  last  Christmas!"  were  the  first 
broken  words  that  issued  from  the  lips  of  tlie  confounded 
gentleman. 

Since  last  Christmas,"  replied  Wardle;  "  that's  plain 


378  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


enough,  and  very  bad  spectacles  we  must  have  worn  not 
to  have  discovered  it  before." 

I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ruminating; 
"  I  really  cannot  understand  it." 

"  it's  easy  enough  to  understand,"  replied  the  choleric 
old  gentleman.  If  you  had  been  a  younger  man,  you 
would  have  been  in  the  secret  long  ago;  and  besides," 
added  War  die,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  ''the  truth 
is,  that  knowing  nothing  of  this  matter,  I  have  rather 
pressed  Emily,-  for  four  or  five  months  past,  to  receive 
favourably  (if  she  could;  I  would  never  attempt  to  force 
a  girl's  inclinations)  the  addresses  of  a  young  gentleman 
down  in  our  neighbourhood.  I  have  no  doubt  that,  girl- 
like,  to  enhance  her  own  value  and  increase  the  ardour 
of  Mr.  Snodgrass,  she  has  represented  this  matter  in  very 
glowing  colours,  and  that  they  have  both  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  they  are  a  terribly  persecuted  pair  of 
unfortunates,  and  have  no  resource  but  clandestine  pat- 
rimony or  charcoal.  Now  the  question  is,  what's  to  be 
done?" 

''What  have  you  done?"  inauired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"I!" 

"  I  mean  what  did  you  do  when  your  married  daughter 
told  you  this?" 

"  Oh,  I  made  a  fool  of  myself,  of  course,"  rejoined 
Wardle. 

"Just  so,"  interposed  Perker,  who  had  accompanied 
this  dialogue  with  sundry  twitchings  of  his  watch- 
chain,  vindictive  rubbings  of  his  nose,  and  other 
symptoms  of  impatience.  "That's  very  natural;  but 
how?" 

' '  I  went  into  a  great  passion  and  frightened  my  mother 
into  a  fit,"  said  Wardle. 

"That  was  judicious,"  remarked  Perker;  "and  what 
else?" 

"I  fretted  and  fumed  all  next  day,  and  raised  a  great 
disturbance,"  rejoined  the  old  gentleman.  "At  last  I 
got  tired  of  rendering  myself  unpleasant  and  making 
everybody  miserable;  so  I  hired  a  carriage  at  Muggleton, 
and,  putting  my  own  horses  in  it,  came  up  to  town, 
under  pretence  of  bringing  Emily  to  see  Arabella." 

"Miss  Wardle  is  with  you,  then  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  be  sure  she  is,"  replied  Wardle.  "  She  is  at  Os- 
borne's hotel  in  the  Adelphi  at  this  moment,  unless  your 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  379 


enterprising  friend  has  run  away  with  her  since  I  came 
out  this  morning.'' 

You  are  reconciled,  then     said  Perker 

''Not  a  bit  of  it/' answered  Wardle;  ''she  has  been 
crying  and  moping  ever  since,  except  last  night  be- 
tween tea  and  supper,  when  she  made  a  great  parade 
of  writing  a  letter  that  I  pretended  to  take  no  notice  of.'' 

"You  want  my  advice  in  this  matter,  I  suppose!' 
said  Perker,  looking  from  the  musing  face  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick to  the  eager  countenance  of  Wardle,  and  taking 
several  consecutive  pinches  of  his  favourite  stimulant. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Wardle,  looking  at  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Certainly,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Perker,  rising  and  pushing  his 
chair  back,  "my  advice  is,  that  you  both  walk  away 
together,  or  ride  away,  or  get  away  by  some  means  or 
other,  for  I'm  tired  of  you,  and  just  talk  this  matter 
over  between  you.  If  you  have  not  settled  it  by  the 
next  time  I  see  you,  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do." 

"Tliis  is  satisfactory,"  said  Wardle,  hardly  knowing 
whether  to  smile  or  be  offended. 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  sir,"  returned  Perker,  "  I  know 
you  both  a  great  deal  better  than  you  know  yourselves. 
You  have  settled  it  already,  to  all  intents  and  purposes." 

Thus  expressing  himself,  the  little  gentleman  poked 
his  snuff-box  first  into  the  chest  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
tJien  into  the  waiscoat  of  Mr.  Wardle,  upon  which  they 
all  three  laughed,  but  especially  the  two  last-named 
gentlemen,  who  at  once  shook  hands  again  without  any 
obvious  or  particular  reason. 

"You  dine  with  me  to-day,"  said  Wardle  to  Perker, 
as  he  showed  them  out. 

"  Can't  promise,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Perker.  "  I'll 
look  in,  in  the  evening,  at  all  events." 

"I  shall  expect  you  at  five,"  said  Wardle.  "Now, 
Joe  ! "  And  Joe  having  been  at  length  awakened,  the 
two  friends  departed  in  Mr.  Wardle's  carriage,  which 
in  common  humanity  had  a  dickey  behind  for  the  fat 
boy,  who,  if  there  had  been  a  foot-board  instead,  would 
have  rolled  off  and  killed  himself  in  his  very  first  nap. 

Driving  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  they  found  that 
Arabella  and  her  maid  had  sent  for  a  hackney-coach 
immediately  on  the  receipt  of  a  short  note  from  Emily, 
announcing  her  arrival  in  town,  and  had  proceeded 


380  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


straight  to  the  Adelphi.  As  Wardle  had  business  to 
transact  in  the  city,  they  sent  the  carriage  and  the  fat 
boy  to  his  hotel  with  the  information  that  he  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  would  return  together  to  dinner  at  five  o'clock. 

Charged  with  this  message,  the  fat  boy  returned, 
slumbering  as  peaceably  in  his  dickey,  over  the  stones, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  down  bed  on  watch-springs.  By 
some  extraordinary  miracle  he  awoke  of  his  own  ac- 
cord, when  the  coach  stopped,  and  giving  himself  a 
good  shake  to  stir  up  his  faculties,  went  up  stairs  to 
execute  his  commission. 

Now,  whether  the  shake  had  jumbled  the  fat  boy's 
faculties  together,  instead  of  arranging  them  in  proper 
order,  or  had  roused  such  a  quantity  of  new  ideas 
within  him  as  to  render  him  oblivious  of  ordinary 
forms  and  ceremonies,  or  (which  is  also  possible)  had 
proved  unsuccessful  in  preventing  his  falling  asleep 
as  he  ascended  the  stairs,  it  is  an  undoubted  fact  that 
he  walked  into  the  sitting  room  without  previously 
knocking  at  the  door;  and  so  beheld  a  gentleman  with 
his  arm  clasping  his  young  mistress's  waist,  sitting  very 
lovingly  by  her  side  on  a  sofa,  while  Arabella  and  her 
pretty  handmaid  feigned  to  be  absorbed  in  looking  out 
of  a  window  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  At  sight  of 
this  phenomenon  the  fat  boy  uttered  an  interjection, 
theladies  a  scream,  and  the  gentleman  an  oath,  almost 
simultaneously. 

"  Wretched'  creature,  what  do  you  want  here  ?"  said 
the  gentleman,  who  it  is  needless  to  say  was  Mr.  Snod- 
grass. 

To  this  the  fat  boy,  considerably  terrified,  briefly  re- 
sponded, ''Missis." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  for  ?"  inquired  Emily,  turn- 
ing her  head  aside,  ''  you  stupid  creature  !" 

"  Master  and  Mr.  Pickwick  is  a  going  to  dine  here  at 
five,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 

"Leave  the  room,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  glaring  upon 
the  bewildered  youth. 

"No,  no,  no,"  added  Emily,  hastily.  Bella,  dear, 
advise  me." 

Upon  this,  Emily  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Arabella 
and  Mary,  crowded  into  a  corner,  and  conversed 
earnestly  in  whispers  for  some  minutes,  during  which 
the  fat  boy  dozed. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


381 


Joe/'  said  Arabella,  at  length,  looking  round  with 
a  most  bewitching  smile,  ''how  do  you  do,  Joe 

''Joe,"  said  Emily,  "you're  a  very  good  boy;  I  won't 
forget  you,  Joe." 

"Joe,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  advancing  to  the  as- 
tonished youth,  and  seizing  his  hand,  "I  didn't  know 
you  before.    There's  five  shillings  for  you,  Joe  ! " 

"I'll  owe  you  five,  Joe,"  said  Arabella,  "for  old  ac- 
quaintance sake,  you  know;"  and  another  most  capti- 
vating smile  was  bestowed  upon  the  corpulent  intruder. 

"The  fat  boy's  perception  being  slow,  he  looked 
rather  puzzled  at  first  to  account  for  this  sudden  pre- 
possession in  his  favour,  and  stared  about  him  in  a  very 
alarming  manner.  At  length  his  broad  face  began  to 
show  symptoms  of  a  grin  of  proportionately  broad  di- 
mensions; and  then  thrusting  a  half-a-crown  into  each  of 
his  pockets,  and  a  hand  and  a  wrist  after  it,  he  burst 
into  a  horse  laugh:  being  for  the  first  and  only  time  in 
his  existence. 

"He  understands  us,  I  see,"  said  Arabella. 
"He had  better  have  something  to  eat,  immediately," 
remarked  Emily. 

The  fat  boy  almost  laughed  again  when  he  heard  this 
suggestion.  Mary,  after  a  little  more  whispering, 
tripped  forth  from  the  group,  and  said: 


"  I  am  going  to  dine  with  you  to-day,  sir,  if  you  have 
no  objections." 

"This  way,"  said  the  fat  boy,  eagerly.  "There  is 
such  a  jolly  meat  pie  !" 

With  these  words,  the  fat  boy  led  the  way  down  stairs; 
his  pretty  companion  captivating  all  the  waiters  and 
angering  all  the  chambermaids  as  she  followed  him  to 
the  eating-room. 

There  was  the  meat  pie  of  which  the  youth  had  spoken 
so  feelingly:  and  there  were,  moreover,  a  steak,  and  a 
dish  of  potatoes,  and  a  pot  of  porter. 

*'Sit  down,"  said  the  fat  boy.  "Oh,  my  eye.  how 
prime  !  I  am  .so  hungry." 

Having  apostrophised  his  eye,  in  a  species  of  rapture, 
five  or  six  tunes,  the  youtli  took  the  head  of  the  little 
table,  and  Mary  sat  herself  at  the  bottom, 

"Will  you  have  some  of  this?''  said  the  fat  boy, 
plunging  into  the  pie  up  to  the  very  ferules  of  the  knife 
and  fork. 


m  I^OSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OJ^ 

A  little,  if  you  please/'  replied  Mary. 

The  fat  boy  assisted  Mary  to  a  little,  and  himself  to  a 
great  deal,  and  was  just  going  to  begin  eating  when  he 
suddenly  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  leant  forward  in 
his  chair,  and  letting  his  Hand,  with  the  knife  and  fork 
in  them,  fall  on  his  knees,  said,  very  slowly: 
I  say,  how  nice  you  look 

This  was  said  in  an  admiring  manner,  and  was,  so  far, 
gratifying;  but  still  there  was  enough  of  the  canibal  in 
the  young  gentleman's  eyes  to  render  the  compliment  a 
doubtful  one. 

''Dear  me,  Joseph,"  said  Mary,  affecting  to  blush, 
''  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

The  fat  boy,  gradually  recovering  his  former  position, 
replied  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  remaining  thoughtful  for 
a  few  moments,  drank  a  long  draught  of  the  porter. 
Having  achieved  this  feat  he  sighed  again,  and  applied 
himself  assiduously  to  the  pie. 

"  What  a  nice  young  lady  Miss  Emily  is  !"  said  Mary, 
after  a  long  silence. 

The  fat  boy  had  by  this  time  finished  the  pie.  He 
fixed  his  eyes  on  Mary,  and  replied: 

"  I  knows  a  nicer er." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Mary. 

''Yes,  indeed!"  replied  the  fat  boy, with  unwonted 
vivacity. 

"What's  her  name  ?"  inquired  Mary. 

"What's  yours?" 

"Mary." 

"  So's  hers,"  said  the  fat  boy.  You're  her."  The  boy 
grinned  to  add  point  to  the  compliment,  and  put  lais 
eyes  into  something  between  a  squint  and  a  cast,  which 
there  is  reason  to  believe  he  intended  for  an  ogle. 

"You  mustn't  talk  to  me  in  that  way,"  said  Mary; 
"  you  don't  mean  it." 

"Don't  I,  though  ?"  replied  the  fat  boy;  "I  say— " 

"Well." 

"  Are  you  going  to  come  here  regular  ?" 

"No,"  rejoined  Mary,  shaking  her  head,  "I'm  going 
away  again  to-night.    Why  ?" 

"Oh  !"  said  the  fat  boy,  in  a  tone  of  strong  feeling, 
"  how  we  should  have  enjoyed  ourselves  at  meals,  if  you 
had  been  !" 

"I  might  come  here  sometimes,  perhaps,  to  see  you," 


MARY  AND  THE  FAT  BOY. 


Piclcwick  Papers. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


383 


said  Mary,  plaiting  the  table-cloth  in  assumed  coyness, 
if  you  would  do  me  a  favour." 

The  fat  boy  looked  from  the  pie-dish  to  the  steak,  as 
if  he  thought  a  favour  must  be  in  a  manner  connected 
with  something  to  eat,  and  then  took  out  one  of  the  half- 
crowns  and  glanced  at  it  nervously. 

Don't  you  understand  me  ?"  said  Mary,  looking  slyly 
in  his  fat  face. 

Again  he  looked  at  the  half-crown,  and  said  faintly, 
"  No.'' 

''The  ladies  want  you  not  to  say  anything  to  the  old 
gentleman  about  the  young  gentleman  having  been  up 
stairs;  and  I  want  you,  too." 

''Is  that  all!"  said  the  fat  boy,  evidently  much  relieved 
as  he  pocketed  the  half-crown  again.  "Of  course  I 
ain't  a  going  to." 

"  You  see,"  said  Mary,  "Mr.  Snodgrass  is  very  fond 
of  Miss  Emily,  and  Miss  Emily  is  very  fond  of  him,  and 
if  you  were  to  tell  about  it,  the  old  gentleman  would 
carry  you  all  away,  miles  into  the  country,  where  you'd 
see  nobody." 

"No,  no,  I  won't  tell,"  said  the  fat  boy,  stoutly. 

" That's  a  dear,"  said  Mary.  "Now  it's  time  I  went 
up  stairs,  and  got  my  lady  ready  for  dinner." 

"  Don't  go  yet,"  urged  the  fat  boy. 

"  I  must,"  replied  Mary.    "  Good-bye,  for  the  present." 

The  fat  boy,  with  elephantine  playfulness,  sti'etched 
out  his  arms  to  ravish  a  kiss;  but,  as  it  required  no  great 
agility  to  elude  him,  his  fair  enslaver  had  vanished  be- 
fore he  closed  them  again;  upon  which  the  apathetic 
youth  ate  a  pound  or  so  of  steak  with  a  sentimental 
countenance,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

There  was  so  much  to  say  up  stairs,  and  there  were  so 
many  plans  to  concert  for  elopement  and  matrimony  in 
the  event  of  old  Wardle  continuing  to  be  cruel,  that  it 
wanted  only  half  an  hour  of  dinner  when  Mr.  Snodgrass 
took  his  final  adieu.  The  ladies  ran  to  Emily's  bedroom 
to  dress,  and  tlio  lover,  taking  up  his  hat,  walked  out  of 
the  room.  He  had  scarcely  got  outside  the  door,  when 
he  heard  Wardle's  voice  talking  loudly;  and  looking 
over  the  banisters,  beheld  him,  followed  by  some  other 
gentlemen,  coming  straight  up  stairs.  Knowing  noth- 
ing of  the  house,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  his  confusion,  stepped 
hastily  back  into  the  room  he  had  just  quitted,  and 


384  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


passing  from  thence  into  an  inner  apartment  (Mr. 
Wardle's  bedchamber),  closed  the  door  softly,  just  as  the 
persons  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  entered  the  sitting 
room.  These  were  Mr.  Wardle  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr. 
Nathaniel  Winkle  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  whom  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  by  their  voices. 

'^Very  lucky  I  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  avoid 
them,"  thought  Mr.  Snodgrass,  with  a  smile,  and  walk- 
ing on  tiptoe  to  another  door  near  the  bedside,  ''this 
opens  into  the  same  passage,  and  I  can  walk,  quietly 
and  comfortably,  away." 

There  was  only  one  obstacle  to  his  walking  quietly 
and  comfortably  away,  which  was  that  the  door  was 
locked  and  the  key  gone. 

Let  us  have  some  of  your  best  wine  to-day,  waiter," 
said  old  Wardle,  rubbing  his  hands. 

''You  shall  have  some  of  the  very  best,  sir,"  replied 
the  waiter. 

"Let  the  ladies  know  we  have  come  in." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Devoutly  and  ardently  did  Mr.  Snodgrass  wish  that 
the  ladies  could  know  he  had  come  in.  He  ventured 
once  to  whisper  "  Waiter!"  through  the  keyhole,  but, 
the  probability  of  the  wrong  waiter  coming  to  his  relief 
flashing  upon  his  mind,  together  with  the  sense  of  the 
strong  resemblance  between  his  own  situation  and  that 
in  which  another  gentleman  had  been  recently  found  in 
a  neighbouring  hotel  (an  account  of  whose  misfortunes 
had  appeared  under  the  head  of  "  Police  "  in  that  morn- 
ing's paper),  he  sat  himself  on  a  portmanteau,  and 
trembled  violently. 

"We  won't  wait  a  minute  for  Perker,"  said  Wardle, 
looking  at  his  watch;  "  he  is  always  exact.  He  will  be 
here  in  time,  if  he  means  to  come;  and  if  he  does  not, 
it's  of  no  use  waiting.    Ha!  Arabella." 

"  My  sister!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  folding 
her  in  a  most  romantic  embrace. 

"Oh,  Ben,  dear,  how  you  do  smell  of  tobacco,"  said 
Arabella,  rather  overcome  by  this  mark  of  affection. 

"Do  I?"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen.  "Do  I,  Bella? 
Well,  perhaps  I  do." 

Perhaps  he  did;  having  just  left  a  pleasant  little 
smoking  party  of  twelve  medical  students,  in  a  small 
back  parlour  with  a  large  fire. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


385 


"  But  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 
Bless  you,  Bella." 

''There/'  said  Arabella,  bending  forward  to  kiss  her 
brother;  ''don't  take  hold  of  me  again,  Ben,  dear,  because 
you  tumble  me  so." 

At  this  point  of  the  reconciliation,  Mr.  Ben  Allen 
allowed  his  feelings  and  the  cigars  and  porter  to  over- 
come him,  and  looked  round  upon  the  beholders  with 
damp  spectacles. 

"Is  nothing  to  be  said  to  me?"  cried  Wardle,  with 
open  arms. 

"A  great  deal,"  whispered  Arabella,  as  she  received 
the  old  gentleman's  hearty  caress  and  congratulation. 
"You  are  a  hard-hearted,  unfeeling,  cruel  monster!" 

"You  are  a  little  rebel,"  replied  Wardle,  in  the  same 
tone;  "and  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  obliged  to  forbid  you 
the  house.  People  like  you,  who  get  married  in  spite 
of  everybody,  ought  not  to  be  let  loose  on  society.  But 
come!"  added  the  old  gentleman  aloud,  "here's  the 
dinner;  you  shall  sit  by  me.  Joe;  why,  damn  the  boy, 
he's  awake!" 

To  the  great  distress  of  his  master,  the  fat  boy  was 
indeed  in  a  state  of  remarkable  vigilance;  his  eyes  being 
wide  open,  and  as  if  they  intended  to  remain  so.  There 
was  an  alacrity  in  his  manner,  too,  which  was  equally 
unaccountable;  every  time  his  eyes  met  those  of  Emily 
or  Arabella,  he  smirked  and  grinned;  and  once  Wardle 
could  have  sworn  he  saw  him  wink. 

This  alteration  in  the  fat  boy's  demeanour  originated 
in  his  increased  sense  of  his  own  importance,  and  the 
dignity  he  acquired  from  having  been  taken  into  the 
confidence  of  the  young  ladies;  and  the  smirks,  and 
grins,  and  winks,  were  so  many  condescending  assur- 
ances that  they  might  depend  upon  liis  fidelity.  As 
these  tokens  were  rather  calculated  to  awaken  suspicion 
than  allay  it,  and  were  somewhat  embarrassing  besides, 
they  were  occasionally  answered  by  a  frown  or  sliakc^ 
of  the  liead  from  Arabella,  which  the  fat  boy  consi(lcr- 
ing  as  hints  to  be  on  his  guard,  expressed  liis  perfect 
understanding  of  by  smirking,.grinning,  and  winking, 
with  redoubled  assiduity. 

"Joe,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  after  an  unsuccessful  search 
in  all  his  pockets,  "  is  my  snulf-box  on  the  sofa?" 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 


386  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

^^Oh,  I  recollect;  I  left  it  on  my  dressing-table  this 
morning/'  said  Wardle.  ^^Run  into  the  next  room  and 
fetch  it." 

The  fat  boy  went  into  the  next  room;  and  having  been 
absent  about  a  minute^  returned  with  the  snuff-box,  and 
the  palest  face  that  ever  a  fat  boy  wore. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  boy!"  exclaimed  Wardle. 
Nothen's  the  matter  with  me/'  replied  Joe,  nervously. 

^^Have  you  been  seeing  any  spirits?"  inquired  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  Or  taking  any?"  added  Ben  Allen. 

"  I  think  you're  right,"  whispered  Wardle  across  the 
table.    ''He  is  intoxicated,  I'm  sure." 

Ben  Allen  replied  that  bethought  he  was;  and  as  that 
gentleman  had  seen  a  vast  deal  of  the  disease  in  question, 
Wardle  was  confirmed  in  an  impression  which  had  been 
hovering  about  his  mind  for  half  an  hour,  and  at  once 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the  fat  boy  was  drunk. 

''Just  keep  your  eye  upon  him  for  a  few  minutes," 
murmured  Wardle.  "We  shall  soon  find  out  whether 
he  is  or  not." 

The  unfortunate  youth  had  only  interchanged  a  dozen 
words  with  Mr.  Snodgrass:  that  gentleman  having 
implored  him  to  make  a  private  appeal  to  some  friend 
to  release  him,  and  then  pushed  him  out  with  the  snuff- 
box, lest  his  prolonged  absence  should  lead  to  a  discovery. 
He  ruminated  a  little  with  a  most  disturbed  expression 
of  face,  and  left  the  room  in  search  of  Mary. 

But  Mary  had  gone  home,  after  dressing  her  mistress, 
and  the  fat  boy  came  back  again,  more  disturbed  than 
before. 

Wardle  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  exchanged  glances. 
"Joe!"  said  Wardle. 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  did  you  go  away  for?" 

The  fat  boy  looked  hopelessly  in  the  face  of  everybody 
at  table,  and  stammered  out  that  he  didn't  know. 

"  Oh,"  said  Wardle,  "  you  don't  know,  eh?  Take  this 
cheese  to  Mr.  Pickwick." 

Now,  Mr.  Pickwick  being  in  the  very  best  health  and 
spirits,  had  been  making  himself  perfectly  delig  htf ul  al 
dmner-time,  and  was  at  this  moment  engaged  in  an 
energetic  conversation  with  Emily  and  Mr.  Winkle; 
bowing  his  head,  courteously,  in  the  emphasis  of  hi» 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


387 


discourse,  gently  waving  his  left  hand  to  lend  force  to 
his  observations,  and  all  glowing  with  placid  srniles. 
He  took  a  piece  of  cheese  from  the  plate,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  turning  round  to  renew  the  conversation, 
when  the  fat  boy,  stooping  so  as  to  bring  his  head  on  a 
level  with  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  pointed  with  his  thumb 
over  his  shoulder,  and  made  the  most  horrible  and  hide- 
ous face  that  was  ever  seen  out  of  a  Christmas  panto- 
mime. 

''Dear  me!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting,  ''what  a 
very — eh?"  He  stopped,  for  the  fat  boy  had  drawn  him- 
self up,  and  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  fast  asleep. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Wardle. 

"  This  is  such  an  extremely  singular  lad!"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  looking  uneasily  at  the  boy.  "  It  seems  an  odd 
thing  to  say,  but,  upon  my  word,  I  am  afraid  that  at 
times  he  is  a  little  deranged." 

"Oh!  Mr.  Pickwick,  pray  don't  say  so,"  cried  Emily 
and  Arabella  both  at  once. 

"I  am  not  certain,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
amidst  profound  silence,  and  looks  of  general  dismay; 
"but  his  manner  to  me  this  moment  was  really  very 
alarming.  Oh!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly 
jumping  up  with  a  short  scream.  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
ladies,  but  at  that  moment  he  ran  some  sharp  instru- 
ment into  my  leg.    Really  he  is  not  safe." 

' '  He's  drunk, "  roared  old  Wardle,  passionately.  ' ^  Ring 
the  bell!   Call  the  waiters!  He's  drunk." 

"I  ain't,"  said  the  fat  boy,  falling  on  his  knees  as  his 
master  seized  him  by  the  collar.    "  I  ain't  drunk." 

"Then  you're  mad — that's  worse.  Call  the  waiters," 
said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  I  ain't  mad;  I'm  sensible,"  rejoined  the  fat  boy,  be- 
ginning to  cry.  • 

"Then,  what  the  devil  do  you  run  sharp  instru- 
ments into  Mr.  Pickwick's  legs  for?"  inquired  Wardle, 
angrily. 

"He  wouldn't  look  at  me,"  replied  the  boy.  "I 
wanted  to  speak  to  him." 

"What  did  you  want  to  say?"  asked  half-a-dozen 
voices  at  once. 

The  fat  boy  gasped,  looked  at  the  bedroom  door,  gasped 
again,  and  wiped  two  tears  away  with  the  knuckle  of 
each  of  his  forefingers. 


388  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


''What  did  you  want  to  say?'^  demanded  Wardle, 
shaking  him. 

''Stop!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "allow  me.  What  did 
you  wish  to  communicate  to  me,  my  poor  boy?" 

"  I  want  to  whisper  to  you,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 

"  You  want  to  bite  his  ear  off,  I  suppose,"  said  Wardle. 
"Don't  come  near  him;  he's  vicious;  ring  the  bell,  and 
let  him  be  taken  down  stairs." 

Just  as  Mr.  Winkle  caught  the  bell-rope  in  his  hand, 
it  was  arrested  by  a  general  expression  of  astonishment; 
the  captive  lover,  his  face  burning  with  confusion,  sud- 
denly walked  in  from  the  bedroom  and  made  a  compre- 
hensive bow  to  the  company. 

"Hallo!"  cried  Wardle,  releasing  the  fat  boy's  collar, 
and  staggering  back,  "  What's  this!" 

"I  have  been  concealed  in  the  next  room,  sir,  since 
you  returned,"  explained  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'^  Emily,  my  girl,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  reproachfully, 
"  I  detest  meanness  and  deceit;  this  is  unjustifiable  and 
indelicate  in  the  highest  degree.  I  don't  deserve  this  at 
your  hands,  Emily,  indeed." 

"Dear  papa,"  said  Emily,  "Aral)ella  knows — every- 
body here  knows — Joe  knows — that  I  was  no  party  to 
this  concealment.  Augustus,  for  Heaven's  sake,  ex- 
plain it!" 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  had  only  waited  for  a  hearing,  at 
once  recounted  how  he  had  been  placed  in  his  then  dis- 
tressing predicament;  how  the  fear  of  giving  rise  to 
domestic  dissensions  had  alone  prompted  him  to  avoid 
Mr.  Wardle  on  his  entrance;  and  how  he  merely  meant 
to  depart  by  another  door,  but,  finding  it  locked,  had 
been  compelled  to  stay  against  his  will.  It  was  a  pain- 
ful situation  to  be  placed  in;  but  he  now  regretted  it  the 
less,  inasmuch  as  it  afforded  him  an  opportunity  of  ac- 
knowledging, before  their  mutual  friends,  that  he  loved 
Mr.  Wardle's  daughter  deeply  and  sincerely;  that  he 
was  proud  to  avow  that  the  feeling  was  mutual,  and 
that  if  thousands  of  miles  were  placed  between 
them,  or  oceans  rolled  their  waters,  he  could  never  for 
an  instant  forget  these  happy  days  when  first — and 
so  on. 

Having  delivered  himself  to  this  effect,  Mr.  Snodgrass 
bowed  again,  looked  into  the  crown  of  his  hat,  and 
btepped  towards  the  door. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


389 


"StopI"  shouted  Wardle.  ''  Why,  in  the  name  of  all 
that's—" 

"  Inflammable/'  mildly  suggested  Mr.  Pickwick,  wlio 
thought  something  worse  was  coming. 

"  Well— that's  inflammable,"  said  Wardle,  adopting  the 
substitute;  couldn't  you  say  all  this  to  me  in  the  first 
instance?" 

''Or  confide  in  me?"  added  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Dear,  dear,''  said  Arabella,  taking  up  the  defence, 
"  what  is  the  use  of  asking  all  that  now,  especially 
when  you  know  you  had  set  your  covetous  old  heart  on 
a  richer  son-in-law,  and  are  so  wild  and  fierce  besides, 
that  everybody  is  afraid  of  you,  except  me.  Shake 
hands  with  him,  and  order  him  some  dinner,  for  good- 
ness gracious  sake,  for  he  looks  half -starved;  and  pray 
have  your  wine  up  at  once,  for  you'll  not  be  tolerable 
until  you  have  taken  two  bottles  at  least." 

The  worthy  old  gentleman  pulled  Arabella's  ear,  kissed 
her  without  the  smallest  scruple,  kissed  his  daughter 
also  with  great  affection,  and  shook  Mr.  Snodgrass 
warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  She  is  right  on  one  point  at  all  events,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  cheerfully.    "  Ring  for  the.  wine!" 

The  wipe  came,  and  Perker  came  up  stairs  at  the  same 
moment.  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  dinner  at  a  side  table, 
and  when  he  had  despatched  it,  drew  his  chair  next 
Emily,  without  the  smallest  opposition  on  the  old  gen- 
tleman's part. 

The  evQXiiw^  was  excellent.  Little  Mr.  Perker  came 
out  wonderfully,  told  various  comic  stories,  and  sang  a 
serious  song,  which  was  almost  as  funny  as  the  anec- 
dotes. Arabella  was  very  charming,  Mr.  Wardle  very 
jovial,  Mr.  Pickwick  very  harmonious,  Mr.  Bi^n  Allen 
very  uproarious,  the  lovers  very  silent,  Mr.  Winkle  very 
talkatiVe,  and  all  of  them  very  happy. 


390  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

MR.  SOLOMON  PELL,  ASSISTED  BY  A  SELECT  COMMITTEE  OF 
COACHMEN,  ARRANGES  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  THE  ELDER  MR. 
WELLER. 

^^Samivel/'  said  Mr.  Weller,  accosting  his  son  on  the 
morning  after  the  funeral,  '^IVe  found  it,  Sammy.  I 
thought  .it  wos  there." 

''Thought  wot  was  were?"  inquired  Sam. 

^'Your  mother-in-law's  vill,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller.  "  In  wirtue  o'  vich,  them  arrangements  is  to 
be  made  as  I  told  you  on,  last  night,  respectin'  the  funs." 

''Wot,  didn't  she  tell  you  were  it  wos?"  inquired  Sam. 

"Not  a  bit  on  it,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "We 
wos  a  adjestin'  our  little  differences,  and  I  wos  a  cheerin' 
her  spirits  and  bearin'  her  up,  so  that  I  forgot  to  ask 
anythin'  about  it.  I  don't  know  as  I  should  ha'  done 
it  indeed,  if  I  had  remembered  it,"  added  Mr.  Weller, 
"for  it's  a  rum  sort  o'  thing,  Sammy,  to  go  a  hankerin' 
arter  anybody's  property,  ven  your  assistin' .'em'in  ill- 
ness. It's  like  helpin'  an  outside  passenger  up,  ven  he's 
been  pitched  off  a  coach,  and  puttin'  your  hand  in  his 
pocket,  vile  you  ask  him  vith  a  sigh  how  he  finds  his- 
self,  Sammy." 

With  this  figurative  illustration  of  his  meaning,  Mr. 
Weller  unclasped  his  pocket-book,  and  drew  forth  a 
dirty  sheet  of  letter  paper,  on  which  were  inscribed 
various  characters  crowded  together  in  remarkable 
confusion. 

"This  here  is  the  dockyment,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Wel- 
ler. "  I  found  it  in  the  little  black  teapot,  on  the  top 
shelf  o'  the  bar  closet.  She  used  to  keep  bank  notes 
there,  afore  she  vos  married,  Samivel.  I've  seen  her 
take  the  liS  off,  to  pay  a  bill,  many  and  many  a  time. 
Poor  creeter,  she  might  ha'  filled  all  the  teapots  in  the 
house  vith  vills,  and  not  have  inconwenienced  herself 
neither,  for  she  took  werry  little  of  anythin'  in  that  vay 
lately,  'cept  on  the  temperance  nights,  ven  they  just 
laid  a  foundation  o'  tea  to  put  the  spirits  a-top  on  I" 

"Wot  does  it  say  ?"  inquired  Sam.  / 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


391 


''Jistvot  I  told  you,  my  boy,"  rejoined  his  parent. 

Two  hundred  pounds  worth  o'  reduced  counsels  to  my 
son-in-law,  Samivel,  and  all  the  rest  o'  my  property,  of 
ev'ry  kind  and  description  votsoever,  to^  my  husband, 
Mr.  Tony  Veller,  who  I  appint  as  my  sole  eggzekiter." 

"  That's  all,  is  it  ?"  said  Sam. 
That's  all/'  replied  Mr.  Weller.    ^^And  I  s'pose  as 
it's  all  right  and  satisfactory  to  you  and  me,  as  is  the 
only  parties  interested,  ve  may  as  veil  put  this  bit  o' 
paper  into  the  fire." 

'  Wot  are  you  a-doin'  on,  you  lunatic  ?"  said  Sam, 
snatching  the  paper  away  as  his  parent,  in  all  innocence, 
stirred  the  fire  preparatory  to  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word.    '^You're  a  nice  eggzekiter,  you  are." 

^"^Vy  not?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  looking  sternly 
round  with  the  poker  in  his  hand. 

Vy  not  !"  exclaimed  Sam,  '^'cos  it  must  be  proved, 
and  probated,  and  swore  to,  and  all  manner  o'  formali- 
ties." 

You  don't  mean  that  ?"  said  Mr.  Weller,  laying 
doWn  the  poker. 

Sam  buttoned  the  will  carefully  in  a  side  pocket,  inti- 
mating by  a  look  meanwhile  that  he  did  mean  it,. and 
very  seriously  too. 

''Then  I'll'tell  you  wot  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  after 
a  short  meditation,  ''this  is  a  case  for  that  'ere  confi- 
dential pal  o'  the  Chancellorship's.  Pell  mast  look  into 
this,  Sammy.  He's  the  man  for  a  difficult  question  at 
law.  Ve'll  have  this  here  brought  afore  the  Solvent 
Court,  directly,  Samivel." 

"I  never  did  see  such  a  addle-headed  old  creetur  !" 
exclaimed  Sam,  irritably.  "Old  Baileys,  and  Solvent 
Courts,  and  alleybis,  and  ev'ry  species  o'  ganmion  al- 
vays  a-runnin'  through  his  brain  !  You'd  better  get 
your  out  o'  door  clothes  on,  and  come  to  town  about  this 
bisness,  than  stand  a  preachin'  there  about  wot  you  don't 
understand  nothin'  on." 

"  Werry  good,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "I'm 
quite  agreeable  to  anythin'  as  vill  hexpedite  business, 
Sammy.  But  mind  this  here,  my  boy,  nobody  but  Pell — 
nobody  but  Pell  as  a  legal  adwiser." 

"I  don't  want  anybody  else,"  replied  Sam.  "Now, 
are  you  a-comin'  ?" 

"  Vait  aminit,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr. Weller,  who,  hav- 


392 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ing  tied  his  shawl  with  the  aid  of  a  small  glass  that  hung 
in  the  window,  was  now  by  dint  of  the  most  wonderful 
exertions,  struggling  into  his  upper  garments.  Vait  a 
minit,  Sammy;  ven  you  grow  as  old  as  your  father  you 
von't  get  into  your  veskit  quite  as  easy  as  you  do  now, 
my  boy." 

''If  I  couldn't  get  into  it  easier  than  that,  I'm  blessed 
if  I'd  vear  vun  at  all,"  rejoined  his  son. 

"  You  think  so  now,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  gravity 
of  age,  "  but  you'll  find  that  as  you  get  vider  you'll 
get  viser.  Vidth  and  visdom,  Sammy,  alvays  grows 
together." 

As  Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  infallible  maxim— the 
result  of  many  years'  personal  experience  and  observa- 
tion— he  contrived,  by  a  dexterous  twist  of  his  body,  to 
get  the  bottom  button  of  his  coat  to  perform  its  office. 
Having  paused  a  few  seconds  to  recover  breath,  he 
brushed  his  hat  with  his  elbow,  and  declared  himself 
ready. 

"  As  four  heads  is  better  than  two,  Sammy,"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  as  they  drove  along  the  London  Road  in  t'he 
chaise  cart,  ''  and  as  all  this  here  property  13  a  worry 
great  temptation  to  a  legal  gen'l'm'n,  ve'll  take  a  couple 
o'  friends  o'  mine  vith  us,  as'll  be  worry  soon  down 
upon  him  if  he  comes  any  thin'  irreg'lar;  two  o'  them  as 
saw  you  to  the  Fleet  that  day.  They're  the  werry  best 
judges,"  added  Mr.  Weller  in  a  half  whisper,  ''the 
werry  best  judges  of  ahorse  you  ever  know'd." 

"  And  of  a  lawyer,  too  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"The  man  as  can  form  a  ackerate  judgment  of  a 
animal  can  form  a  ackerate  judgment  of  anything,"  re- 
plied his  father,  so  dogmatically,  that  Sam  did  not  at- 
tempt to  controvert  the  position. 

In  pursuance  of  this  notable  resolution,  the  services  of 
the  mottle-faced  gentleman  and  of  two  other  very  fat 
coachmen — selected  by  Mr.  Weller,  probably,  with  a 
view  to  their  width  and  consequent  wisdom — were  put 
into  requisition,  and  this  assistance  having  been  se- 
cured, the  party  proceeded  to  the  public-house  in  Por- 
tugal Street,  whence  a  messenger  was  despatched  to  the 
Insolvent  Court  over  the  way,  requiring  Mr.  Solomon 
Pell's  immediate  attendance. 

The  messenger  fortunately  found  Mr.  Solomon  Pell  in 
court,  regaling  himself,  business  being  rather  slack, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


393 


with  a  cold  collation  of  an  Abernethy  biscuit  and  a 
saveloy.  The  message  was  no  sooner  whispered  in  his 
ear  than  he  thrust  them  in  his  pocket  among  various 
professional  documents,  and  hurried  over  the  way  with 
such  alacrity  that  he  reached  the  parlour  before  the 
messenger  had  even  emancipated  himself  from  the  Court. 

''Gentlemen/' said  Mr.  Pell,  touching  his  hat,  "my 
service  to  you  all.  1  don't  say  it  to  flatter  you,  gentle- 
men, but  there  are  not  five  other  men  in  the  world,  that 
I'd  have  come  out  of  that  court  for,  to-day." 

"So  busy,  eh?"  said  Sam. 

"Busy!"  replied  Pell;  "I'm  completely  sewn  up,  as 
my  friend  the  late  Lord  Chancellor  many  a  time  used  to 
say  to  me,  gentlemen,  when  he  came  out  from  hearing 
appeals  in  the  House  of  Lords.  Poor  fellow!  he  was 
very  susceptible  of  fatigue;  he  used  to  feel  those  appeals 
uncommonly.  I  actually  thought  more^  than  once  that 
he'd  have  sunk  under  'em;  I  did  indeed." 

Here  Mr.  Pell  shook  his  head,  and  paused;  on  which, 
the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  nudging  his  neighbour,  as  begging 
him  to  mark  the  attorney's  high  connections,  asked 
whether  the  duties  in  question  produced  any  permanent 
ill  effects  on  the  constitution  of  his  noble  friend. 

"  I  don't  think  he  ever  quite  recovered  them,"  replied 
Pell;  "in  fact,  I'm  sure  he  never  did.  '  Pell,'  he  used  to 
say  to  me  many  a  time,  '  how  the  blazes  you  can  stand 
the  headwork  you  do  is  a  mystery  to  me.  '  Well,'  I  used 
to  answer,  'I  hardly  know  how  I  do  it,  upon  my  life.' 
'  Pell,'  he'd  add,  sighing,  and  looking  at  me  with  a  little 
envy  —  friendly  envy,  you  know,  gentlemen,  mere 
friendly  envy;  I  never  minded  it — '  Pell,  you're  a  wonder; 
a  wonder.'  Ah  I  you'd  have  liked  him  very  much  if  you 
had  known  him,  gentlemen.  Bring  me  three  penn'orth 
of  rum,  my  dear." 

Addressing  this  latter  remark  to  the  waitress  in  a  tone 
of  subdued  grief,  Mr.  Pell  sighed,  looked  at  his  shoes, 
and  the  ceiling;  and,  the  rum  having  by  that  time  ar- 
rived, drunk  it  up. 

"However,"  said  Pell,  drawing  a  chair  to  the  table, 
"  a  professional  man  has  no  right  to  think  of  liis  private 
friendships  when  his  legal  assistance  is  wantcnl.  Bv  the 
bye,  gentlemen,  since  I  saw  you  liere  before,  we  nave 
had  to  weep  over  a  very  melanclioly  occurrence." 

Mr.  Pell  drew  out  a  pocket-handkerchief  when  he  came 


394 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


to  the  word  weep,  but  he  made  no  further  use  of  it  than 
to  wipe  away  a  slight  tinge  of  rum  which  hung  upon  his 
upper  lip. 

''I  saw  it  in  the  Advertiser,  Mr.  Weller,"  continued 
Pell.  ''Bless  my  soul,  not  more  than  fifty-two!  dear 
me — only  think." 

These  indications  of  a  musing  spirit  were  addressed  to 
the  mottled-faced  man,  whose  eyes  Mr.  Pell  had  acci- 
dently  caught;  on  which,  the  mottled-face  man,  whose 
apprehension  of  matters  in  general  was  of  a  foggy  na- 
ture, moved  uneasily  in  his  seat,  and  opined  that  indeed, 
so  far  as  that  went,  there  was  no  saying  how  things  was 
brought  about;  which  observation,  involving  one  of  those 
subtle  propositions  which  it  is  difficult  to  encounter  in 
argument,  was  controverted  by  nobody. 

''I  have  heard  it  remarked  that  she  was  a  very  fine 
woman,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Pell  in  a  sympathizing  manner. 

''Yes,  sir,  she  wos,"  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  not 
much  relishing  this  mode  of  discussing  the  subject,  and 
yet  thinking  that  the  attorney,  from  his  long  intimacy 
with  the  late  Lord  Chancellor,  must  know  best  on  all 
matters  of  polite  breeding.  "She  wos  a  worry  fine 
'ooman,  sir,  ven  I  first  know'd  her.  She  wos  a  widder, 
sir,  at  that  time." 

"Now,  it's  curious,"  said  Pell,  looking  round  with  a 
sorrowful  smile;  "Mrs.  Pell  was  a  widow." 

"That's  very  extraordinary,"  said  the  mottled-faced 
man. 

"Well,  it  is  a  curious  coincidence,"  said  Pell. 

"Not  at  all,"  gruffly  remarked  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 
"  More  widders  is  married  than  single  wimin." 

"Very  good,  very  good,"  said  Pell,  "you're  quite 
right,  Mr.  Weller.  Mrs.  Pell  was  a  very  elegant  and  ac- 
complished woman;  her  manners  were  the  theme  of 
universal  admiration  in  our  neighbourhood.  I  was  proud 
to  see  that  woman  dance;  there  was  something  so  firm 
and  dignified,  and  yet  natural,  in  her  motion.  Her  cut- 
ting, gentlemen,  was  simplicity  itself.  Ah!  well,  well! 
Excuse  my  asking  the  question,  Mr.  Samuel,"  continued 
the  attorney  in  a  lower  voice,  "was  your  mother-in-law 
tall?" 

"Not  worry,"  replied  Sam. 

"Mrs.  Pell  was  a  tall  figure,"  said  Pell,  "a  splendid 
woman,  with  a  noble  shape,  and  a  nose,  gentlemen, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


395 


formed  to  command  and  be  majestic.  She  was  very- 
much  attached  to  me — very  much — highly  connected, 
too;  her  mother's  brother,  gentlemen,  failed  for  eight 
hundred  pounds,  as  a  law  stationer." 

"  Veil,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  grown  rather  restless 
during  this  discussion,  "  vith  regard  to  bis'ness." 

The  word  was  music  to  Pell's  ears.  He  had  been  re- 
volving in  his  mind  whether  any  business  was  to  be 
transacted,  or  whether  he  had  been  merely  invited  to 
partake  of  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,  or  a  bowl  of 
punch,  or  any  similar  professional  compliment,  and  now 
the  doubt  was  set  at  rest  without  his  appearing  at  all 
eager  for  its  solution.  His  eyes  glistened  as  he  laid  his 
hat  on  the  table  and  said: 

^'What  is  the  business  upon  which — um?  Either  of 
these  gentlemen  wish  to  go  through  the  court?  We  re- 
quire an  arrest,  a  friendly  arrest  will  do,  you  know;  we 
are  all  friends  here,  I  suppose?" 

"  Give  me  the  dockyment,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
taking  the  will  from  his  son,  who  appeared  to  enjoy  the 
interview  amazingly.  Wot  we  rekvire,  sir,  is  a  probe 
o'  this  here." 

"  Probate,  my  dear  sir,  probate,"  said  Pell. 

^'Well,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  sharply,  ''probe  and 
probe  it,  is  worry  much  the  same;  if  you  don't  under- 
stand wot  I  mean,  sir,  Idessay  I  can  find  them  as  does." 

''No  offence  I  hope,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Pell,  meekly. 
"You  are  the  executor  I  see,"  he  added,  casting  his  eyes 
over  the  paper. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  These  other  gentleman,  I  presume,  are  legatees,  are 
they?"  inquired  Pell,  with  a  congratulatory  smile. 

"Sammy  is  a  leg-at-ease,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  "these 
other  gen'l'm'n  is  friends  o'  mine,  just  come  to  see  fair; 
a  kind  of  umpires." 

"OhI"  said  Pell,  "very  good.  I  have  no  objections, 
I'm  sure.  I  shall  want  a  matter  of  five  pound  of  you  be- 
fore I  begin,  ha!  ha!  ha!" 

It  being  decided  by  the  committee  that  the  five  pounds 
might  be  advanced,  Mr.  Weller  produced  that  sum;  after 
which  a  long  consultation  about  nothing  particular  took 
place,  in  the  course  whereof  Mr.  P(^ll  (lemonstrat(Ml,  to 
the  perfect  satisfaction  of  the  gentlemc^n  who  saw  fair, 
that  unless  the  management  of  the  business  liad  been 


30G  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


intrusted  to  him,  it  must  all  have  gone  wrong,  for  rea- 
sons not  clearly  made  out,  but  no  doubt  sufficient.  This 
important  point  being  despatched,  Mr.  Pell  refreshed 
himself  with  three  chops  and  liquids,  both  malt  and 
spirituous,  at  the  expense  of  the  estate;  and  then  they 
all  went  away  to  Doctors'  Commons. 

The  next  day  there  was  another  visit  to  Doctor's  Com- 
mons, and  a  great  to-do  with  an  attesting  ostler,  who, 
being  inebriated,  declined  swearing  anything  but  pro- 
fane oaths,  to  the  great  scandal  of  a  proctor  and  sur- 
rogate. Next  week  there  were  more  visits  to  Doctors' 
Commons,  and  there  was  a  visit  to  the  Legacy  Duty 
Oifice  besides,  and  there  were  treaties  entered  into  for 
the  disposal  of  the  lease  and  business,  and  ratifications 
of  the  same,  and  inventories  to  be  made  out,  and  lunches 
to  be  taken,  and  dinners  to  be  eaten,  and  so  many  profit- 
able things  to  be  done,  and  such  a  mass  of  papers  accu- 
mulated, that  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  and  the  boy,  and  the 
blue  bag  to  boot,  all  got  so  stout  that  scarely  anybody 
would  have  known  them  for  the  same  man,  boy,  and  bag 
that  had  loitered  about  Portugal  Street  a  few  days 
before. 

At  length  all  these  weighty  matters  being  arranged,  a 
day  was  fixed  for  selling  out  and  transferring  the  stock, 
and  of  waiting,  with  that  view,  upon  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esq.,  stock-broker,  of  somewhere  near  the  Bank,  who 
had  been  recommended  by  Mr.  Solomon  Pell  for  the 
purpose. 

It  was  a  kind  of  festive  occasion,  and  the  parties  were 
attired  accordingly.  Mr.  Weller's  tops  were  newly 
cleaned,  and  his  dress  was  arranged  with  peculiar  care: 
the  mottled-faced  gentleman  wore  at  his  button-hole  a 
fall-sized  dahlia  with  several  leaves;  and  the  coats  of  his 
two  friends  were  adorned  with  nosegays  of  laurel  and 
other  evergreens.  All  three  were  habited  in  strict  holi- 
day costume;  that  is  to  say,  they  were  wrapped  up^  to 
the  chins,  and  wore  as  many  clothes  as  possible,  which 
is  and  has  been  a  stage-coachman's  idea  of  full  dress 
ever  since  stage-coaches  were  invented. 

Mr.  Pell  was  waiting  at  the  usual  place  of  meeting  at 
the  appointed  time;  and  even  Mr.  Pell  wore  a  pair  of 
gloves  and  a  clean  shirt:  the  latter  much  frayed  at  the 
collar  and  wrist-bands  by  frequent  washing. 

''A  quarter  to  two,"  said  Pell,  looking  at  the  parlour 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


397 


clock.  ''If  we  are  with  Mr.  Flasher  at  a  quarter  past, 
we  shall  just  hit  the  best  time." 

''What  should  you  say  to  a  drop  o'  beer,  genTm'n?" 
suggested  the  mottled-faced  man. 

"And  a  little  bit  o'  cold  beef,"  said  the  second  coach- 
man. 

"  Or  a  oyster,"  added  the  third,  who  was  a  hoarse  gen- 
tleman, supported  by  very  round  legs. 

"Hear,  hear!"  said  Pell;  "to  congratulate  Mr.  Weller 
on  his  coming  into  possession  of  his  property:  eh? 
ha!  ha!" 

* "  I'm  quite  agreeable,  genTm'n,"  answered  Mr.  Weller. 
"Sammy,  pull  the  bell." 

Sam  complied;  and  the  porter,  cold  beef,  and  oysters 
being  promptly  produced,  the  lunch  was  done  ample  jus- 
tice to.  Where  everybody  took  so  active  a  part,  it  is  al- 
most invidious  to  make  a  distinction;  but  if  one  indi- 
vidual evinced  greater  powers  than  another,  it  was  the 
coachman  with  the  hoarse  voice,  who  took  an  imperial 
pint  of  vinegar  with  his  oysters,  without  betraying  the 
least  emotion. 

"  Mr.  Pell,  sir,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  stirring  a 
glass  of  brandy  and  water,  of  which  one  was  placed  be- 
fore every  gentleman  when  the  oyster-shells  were  re- 
moved; "Mr.  Pell,  sir,  it  wos  my  intention  to  have  pro- 
posed the  funs  on  this  occasion,  but  Samivel  has  vispered 
to  me — " 

Here  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  had  silently  eaten  liis 
oysters  with  tranquil  smiles,  cried  "  Hear  !"  in  a  very 
loud  "voice, 

" — Has  vispered  to  me,"  resumed  his  father,  "that  it 
vould  be  better  to  de-wote  the  liquor  to  vishin'  you  suc- 
cess and  prosperity,  and  thankin'  you  for  the  manner  in 
which  you've  Drought  this  here  business  through. 
Here's  your  health,  sir." 

"  Hold  hard,  there,"  interposed  the  mottled-faced  gen- 
tleman, with  sudden  energy,  "your  eyes  on  me, 
gen'l'm'n  !" 

Saying  this,  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  rose,  as  did 
the  other  gentlemen.  The  mottled-faced  gentleman  re- 
viewed the  company,  and  slowly  lifted  his  hand,  upon 
which  every  man  (including  he  of  the  mottlt^l  counte- 
nance) drew  a  long  breath,  and  lift(Ml  liis  tumbler  to  his 
lips,    in  one  instant,  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  de- 


398 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


pressed  his  hand  again,  and  every  glass  was  set  down 
empty.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  thrilling  effect 
produced  by  this  striking  ceremony;  at  once  dignified, 
solemn,  and  oppressive,  it  combined  every  element  of 
grandeur. 

''Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pell,  ''all  I  can  say  is, 
that  such  marks  of  confidence  must  be  very  gratifying 
to  a  professional  man.  I  don't  wish  to  say  anything 
that  might  appear  egotistical,  gentlemen,  but  I'm  very 
glad  for  yourov/n  sakes,  that  you  came  tome:  that's  all. 
If  you  had  gone  to  any  low  member  of  the  profession, 
it's  my  firm  conviction,  and  I  assure  you  of  it  as  a  fact, 
that  you  would  have  found  yourselves  in  Queer  Street 
before  this.  I  could  have  wished  my  noble  friend  had 
been  alive  to  have  seen  my  management  of  this  case; 
I  don't  say  it  out  of  pride,  but  I  think — however,  gentle- 
men, I  won't  trouble  you  with  that.  I'm  generally  to  be 
found  here,  gentlemen,  but  if  I'm- not  here,  or  over  the 
way,  that's  my  address.  You'll  find  my  terms  very 
cheap  and  reasonable,  and  no  man  attends  more  to  his 
clients  than  I  do,  and  I  hope  I  know  a  little  of  my  pro- 
fession besides.  If  you  have  any  opportunity  of  recom- 
mending me  to  any  of  your  friends,  gentlemen,  I  shall 
be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  and  so  will  they  too,  when 
they  come  to  know  me.    Your  healths,  gentlemen." 

With  this  expression  of  his  feelings,  Mr.  Solomon  Pell 
laid  three  small  written  cards  before  Mr.  Weller's  friends, 
and,  looking  at  the  clock  again,  feared  it  was  time  to  be 
walking.  Upon  this  hint  Mr.  Weller  settled  the  bill, 
and,  issuing  forth,  the  executor,  legatee,  attorney  and 
umpires,  directed  their  steps  towards  the  city. 

The  office  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  of  the  Stock 
Exchange,  was  in  a  first  floor  up  a  court  behind  the 
Bank  of  England;  the  house  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire, 
was  at  Brixton,  Surrey;  the  horse  and  stanhope  of  Wil- 
kins Flasher,  Esquire,  were  at  an  adjacent  livery  stable; 
the  groom  of  Wilkins^  Flasher,  Esquire,  was  on  his  way 
to  the  West  End  to  deliver  some  game;  the  clerk  of 
Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  had  gone  to  his  dinner;  and 
so  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  himself,  cried,  "  Come  in," 
when  Mr.  Pell  and  his  companions  knocked  at  the 
counting-house  door. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Pell,  bowing  obsequiously. 
'^  Wo  want  to  make  a  little  transfer,  if  you  please." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


"  Oh,  come  in,  will  you?"  said  Mr.  Flasher.  ''Sit 
down  a  minute;  I'll  attend  to  you  directly." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Pell,  "  there's  no  hurry.  Take 
a  chair,  Mr.  Weller." 

Mr.  Weller  took  a  chair,  and  Sam  took  a  box,  and  the 
umpires  took  whatever  they  could  get,  and  looked  at  the 
almanac  and  one  or  two  papers  which  were  wafered 
against  the  wall,  with  as  much  open-eyed  reverence  as 
if  they  had  been  the  finest  efforts  of  the  old  masters. 

"  Well,  I'll  bet  yoij  half  a  dozen  of  claret  on  it;  come!" 
said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  resuming  the  conversa- 
tion to  which  Mr.  Pell's  entrance  had  caused  a  momen- 
tary interruption. 

This  was  addressed  to  a  very  smart  young  gentleman 
who  wore  his  hat  on  his  right  whisker,  and  was  loung- 
ing over  the  desk,  killing  flies  with  a  ruler.  Wilkins 
Flasher,  Esquire,  was  balancing  himself  on  two  legs  of 
an  office  stool,  spearing  a  wafer-box  with  a  penknife, 
which  he  dropped  every  now  and  then,  with  great  dex- 
terity, into  the  very  centre  of  a  small  red  wafer  that  was 
stuck  outside.  Both  gentlemen  had  very  open  waist- 
coats and  very  rolling  collars,  and  very  small  boots,  and 
very  big  rings,  and  very  little  watches,  and  very  large 
guard  chains,  and  symmetrical  inexpressibles,  and 
scented  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

''  I  never  bet  half-a-dozen,"  said  the  other  gentleman. 
''Vll  take  a  dozen." 

''Done,  Simmery,  done!"  said  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire. 

P.  P.,  min(J,"  observed  the  other. 
''Of  course,"  replied  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire;  and 
Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  entered  it  in  a  little  book, 
with  a  gold  pencil-case,  and  the  other  gentleman  entered 
it  also,  in  another  little  book  with  another  gold  pencil- 
case. 

"  I  see  there's  a  notice  up  this  morning  about  Boffer/' 
observed  Mr.  Simmery.  "Poor  devil,  he's  expelled  the 
house!" 

"  I'll  bet  you  ten  guineas  to  five,  he  cuts  his  throat," 
said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 
"  Done,"  replied  Mr.  Simmery. 

"Stop!  I  bar,"  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire, 
thoughtfully.    "  Perhaps  he  may  hang  himself." 

"Very  good,"  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery,  pulling  out  the 


400 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


gold  pencil-case  again.  IVe  no  objection  to  take  you 
that  way.    Say— makes  away  with  himself." 

Kills  himself,  in  fact/'  said  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire. 

''Just  so/'  replied  Mr.  Simmery,  putting  it  down. 

'  Flasher — ten  guineas  to  five,  Boffer  kills  himself.' 
Within  what  time  shall  we  say?  " 

''A  fortnight?"  suggested  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 

'' Con-found  it,  no;"  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery,  stopping 
for  an  instant  to  smash  a  fly  with  the  ruler.  "  Say  a 
week." 

"  Split  the  difference,"  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 
"  Make  it  ten  days." 

''Well;  ten  days,"  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery. 

So,  it  was  entered  down  in  the  little  books  that  Boff er 
was  to  kill  himself  within  ten  days,  or  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire,  was  to  hand  over  to  Frank  Simmery,  Esquire, 
the  sum  of  ten  guineas;  and  that  if  Boffer  did 
kill  himself  within  that  time,  Frank  Simmery,  Esquire, 
would  pay  to  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  five  guineas,  in- 
stead. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  he  has  failed,"  said  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire.    "  Capital  dinners  he  gave." 

"Fine  port  he  had,  too,"  remarked  Mr.  Simmery. 
"  We  are  going  to  send  our  butler  to  the  sale  to-morrow, 
to  pick  up  some  of  tlmt  sixty-four." 

"The  devil  you  are!"  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire, 
"  My  man's  going  too.  Five  guineas  my  man  outbids 
your  man." 

"Done." 

Another  entry  was  made  in  the  little  books,  with  the 
gold  pencil-cases;  and  Mr.  Simmery  having,  by  this 
time,  killed  all  the  flies  and  taken  all  the  bets,  strolled 
away  to  the  Stock  Exchange  to  see  what  was  going  for- 
ward. 

Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  now  condescended  to  re- 
ceive Mr.  Solomon  Pell's  instructions,  and  having  filled 
up  some  printed  forms,  requested  the  party  to  follow 
him  to  the  Bank;  which  they  did:  Mr.  Weller  and  his 
three  friends  staring  at  all  they  beheld  in  unbounded 
astonishment,  and  Sam  encountering  everything  with  a 
coolness  which  nothing  could  disturb. 

Crossing  a  court-yard  which  was  all  noise  and  bustle; 
^nd  passing  a  couple  of  porters  who  seemed  dressed  to 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


401 


match  the  red  fire-engine  which  was  wheeled  away  into 
a  corner,  they  passed  into  an  office  where  tlieir  business 
was  to  be  transacted,  and  where  Pell  antl  Mr.  Flasher 
left  them  standing  for  a  few  moments,  while  they  went 
upstairs  into  the  Will  Office. 

Wot  place  is  this  here?  "  whispered  the  mottled-faced 
gentleman  to  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

CounseFs  Office,"  replied  the  executor  in  a  whisper. 

^^Wot  are  them  gen'l'men  a    settin'    behind  the 
counters?"  asked  the  hoarse  coachman. 

''Reduced  counsels,   I  s'pose,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 
''Ain't  they  the  reduced  counsels,  Samivel?" 

'' Wy,  you  don't  suppose  the  reduced  counsels  is  alive, 
do  you?"  inquired  Sam,  with  some  disdain. 

"How  should  I  know?"  retorted  Mr.  Weller;  "I 
thought  they  looked  werry  like  it.    Wot  are  they,  then?  " 

"Clerks,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Wot  are  they  all  a  eatin'  ham  sangwidges  for?"  in- 
quired his  father. 

"  Cos  it's  in  their  dooty,  I  suppose,"  replied  Sam,  "  it's 
a  part  o'  the  system;  they're  alvays  a  doin'  it  here,  all 
day  long! " 

Mr.  Weller  and  his  friends  had  scarcely  had  a  moment 
to  reflect  upon  this  singular  regulation  as  connected  with 
the  monetary  system  of  the  country,  when  they  were 
rejoined  by  Pell  and  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  who  led 
them  to  a  part  of  the  counter  above  which  was  a  round 
black  board  with  a  large  "  W  "  on  it. 

"  Wot's  that  for,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  directing 
PelFs  attention  to  the  target  in  question. 

"The  first  letter  of  the  name  of  the  deceased,"  replied 
Pell. 

"  I  say,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  turning"  round  to  the  umpires.  | 
"  There's  somethin' wrong  here.  We's  our  letter — this' 
won't  do." 

The  referees  at  once  gave  it  as  their  decided  opinion 
that  the  business  could  not  be  legally  proceeded  with, 
under  the  letter  W,  and  in  all  probability  it  would  have 
stood  over  for  one  day  at  least,  had  it  not  Ixn^n  for  the 
prompt,  though,  at  first  sight,  undutiful  Ix^hnviour  of 
Sam,  who,  seizing  his  father  by  the  skirt  of  the  coat, 
dragged  him  to  the  counter,  and  i)inn(Ml  him  there,  initil 
he  had  affixed  his  signature  to  a  coui)le  of  instruments; 
which,  from  Mr.  Weller's  habit  of  printing,  was  a  work 


402  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


of  so  much  labour  and  time,  that  the  officiating  clerk 
peeled  and  ate  three  Ripstone  pippins  while  it  was  per- 
forming. 

As  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  insisted  on  selling  out  his 
portion  forthwith,  they  proceeded  from  the  Bank  to  the 
gate  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  to  which  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire,  after  a  short  absence,  returned  with  a  cheque 
on  Smith,  Payne  and  Smith,  for  five  hundred  and  thirty 
pounds;  that  being  the  sum  of  money  to  which  Mr. 
Weller,  at  the  market  price  of  the  day,  was  entitled,  in 
consideration  of  the  balance  of  the  second  Mrs.  Weller's 
funded  savings.  Sam's  two  hundred  pounds  stood  trans- 
ferred to  his  name,  and  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  having 
been  paid  his  commission,  dropped  the  money  carelessly 
into  his  coat  pocket,  and  lounged  back  to  his  office. 

Mr.  Weller  was  at  first  obstinately  determined  on 
cashing  the  cheque  in  nothing  but  sovereigns;  but  it 
being  represented  by  the  umpires  that  by  so  doing  he 
must  incur  the  expense  of  a  small  sack  to  carry  them 
home  in,  he  consented  to  receive  the  amount  in  five- 
pound  notes. 

''My  son,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  as  they  came  out  of  the 
banking-house,  "  my  son  and  me  has  a  werry  particular 
engagement  this  arternoon,  and  I  should  like  to  have 
this  here  bis'ness  settled  out  of  hand,  so  let's  jest  go 
straight  avay  someveres,  vere  ve  can  hordit  the  ac- 
counts." 

A  quiet  room  was  soon  found,  and  the  accounts  were 
produced  and  audited.  Mr.  Pell's  bill  was  taxed  by  Sam, 
and  some  charges  were  disallowed  by  the  umpires;  but, 
notwithstanding  Mr.  Pell's  declaration,  accompanied 
with  many  solemn  asseverations  that  they  were  really 
too  hard  upon  him,  it  was,  by  very  many  degrees,  the 
best  professional  job  he  had  ever  had,  and  one  on  which 
he  boarded,  lodged,  and  washed,  for  six  months  after- 
wards. 

The  umpires,  having  partaken  of  a  dram,  shook  hands 
and  departed,  as  they  had  t^T  drive  out  of  town  that 
night.  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  finding  that  nothing  more 
was  going  forward,  either  in  the  eating  or  drinking, 
way,  took  a  friendly  leave,  and  Sam  and  his  father  were 
left  alone. 

''There,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  thrusting  his  pocket-book 
in  his  side  pocket,  "  vith  the  bills  for  the  lease,  and  that^ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  403 

there's  eleven  hundred  and  eighty  pound  here.  Now 
Samivel,  my  boy,  turn  the  horses'  heads  to  the  George 
and  Wulter!" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AN  IMPORTANT  CONFERENCE  TAKES  PLACE  BETWEEN  MR. 
PICKWICK  AND  SAMUEL  WELLER,  AT  WHICH  HIS  PARENT 
ASSISTS. — AN  OLD  GENTLEMAN  IN  A  SNUFF-COLOUBED 
SUIT  ARRIVES  UNEXPECTEDLY. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sitting  alone,  musing  over  many 
things  and  thinking,  among  other  considerations,  how 
he  could  best  provide  for  the  young  couple  whose  present 
unsettled  condition  was  a  matter  of  constant  regret  and 
anxiety  to  him,  when  Mary  stepped  lightly  into  the 
room,  and  advancing  to  the  table,  said  rather  hastily: 

^'Oh,  if  you  please  sir,  Samuel  is  down  stairs,  and  he 
says  may  his  father  see  you?" 

Surely,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mary,  tripping  towards  the 
door  again. 

''Sam  has  not  been  here  long,  has  he?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''Oh,  no,  sir,"  replied  Mary  eagerly.  ''He  has  only 
just  come  home.  He  is  not  going  to  ask  you  for  any 
more  leave,  sir,  he  says." 

Mary  might  have  been  conscious  that  she  liad  com- 
municated this  last  intelligence  with  more  warmth  tlian 
seemed  actually  necessary,  or  she  might  have  observed 
the  good-humoured  smile  with  which  Mr.  Pickwick  re- 
garded her,  when  slie  had  finished  speaking.  She  cer- 
tainly held  down  her  head,  and  examined  the  corner  of 
a  very  smart  little  apron,  with  more  closeness  than  there 
appeared  any  absolute  occasion  for. 

''  Tell  them  they  can  come  up  at  once,  by  all  means," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mary,  apparently  much  relieved,  hurried  away  with 
her  message. 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the 
room;  and,  rubbing  his  chin  with  his  left  hand  as  \\v.  did 
so,  appeared  lost  in  thouglit. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick  at  length,  in  a  kind 


404  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 


but  somewhat  melancholy  tone,  ''it  is  the  best  way  in 
which  I  could  reward  him  for  his  attachment  and  fidelity : 
let  it  be  so,  in  Heaven's  name.  It  is  the  fate  of  a  lonely 
old  man,  that  those  about  him  should  form  new  and  dif- 
ferent attachments  and  leave  him.  I  have  no  right  to 
expect  that  it  should  be  otherwise  with  me.  No,  no," 
added  Mr.  Pickwick  more  cheerfully,  ''it  would  be  self- 
ish and  ungrateful.  I  ought  to  be  happy  to  have  an 
opportunity  of  providing  for  him  so  well.  I  am.  Of 
course  I  am." 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  so  absorbed  in  these  reflections, 
that  a  knock  at  the  door  was  three  or  four  times  repeated 
before  he  heard  it.  Hastily  seating  himself  and  calling 
up  his  accustomed  pleasant  looks,  he  gave  the  required 
permission,  and  Sam  Weller  entered,  followed  by  his 
father. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  back  again,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
''How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller?" 

"Worry  hearty,  thankee,  sir,"  replied  the  widower; 
"hope  I  see  you  well,  sir." 

"Quite,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I  wanted  to  have  a  little  bit  o'  conwersation  with 
you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "if  you  could  spare  me  five 
minits  or  so,  sir." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Sam,  give  your 
father  a  chair." 

"Thankee,  Samivel,  I've  got  a  cheer  here,"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  bringing  one  forward  as  he  spoke;  "  uncommon 
fine  day  it's  been,  sir,"  added  the  old  gentleman,  laying 
his  hat  on  the  floor  as  he  sat  himself  down. 

' '  Remarkably  so  indeed, "  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  ' 'Very 
seasonable." 

"  Seasonablest  veather  I  ever  see,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Weller.  Here  the  old  gentleman  was  seized  with  a  vio- 
lent fit  of  coughing,  which,  being  terminated,  he  nodded 
his  head,  and  winked,  and  made  several  supplicatory 
and  threatening  gestures  to  his  son,  all  of  which  Sam 
Weller  steadily  abstained  from  seeing. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  perceiving  that  there  was  some  emba,r- 
rassment  on  the  old  gentleman's  part,  affected  to  be  en- 
gaged in  cutting  the  leaves  of  a  book  that  lay  beside 
him;  and  waited  patiently  until  Mr.  Weller  should  arrive 
at  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"I  never  see  sich  a  aggerawatin'  boy  as  you  are, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


405 


Samivel/'  said  Mr.  Weller,  looking  indignantly  at  his 
son;  "  never  in  all  my  born  days.'' 

''What  is  he  doing,  Mr.  Weller?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

''He  von't begin,  sir/'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller;  "  he  knows 
I  ain't  ekal  to  ex-pressin'  myself  ven  there's  anythin' 
partickler  to  be  done,  and  yet  he'll  stand  and  see  me  a 
settin'  here  takin'  up  your  walable  time,  and  makin'  a 
reg'lar  spectacle  o'  myself,  rayther  than  help  me  out  vith 
a  syllable.  It  ain't  filial  conduct,  Samivel,"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  wiping  his  forehead;  "worry  far  from  it." 

"  You  said  you'd  speak,"  replied  Sam;  "  how  should  I 
know  you  wos  done  up  at  the  worry  beginnin'?" 

"You  might  ha'  seen  I  warn't  able  to  start,"  rejoined 
his  father;  "I'm  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  road,  and 
backin'  into  the  palins,  and  all  manner  of  unpleasant- 
ness, and  yet  you  von't  put  out*  a  hand  to  help  me.  I'm 
ashamed  on  you,  Samivel." 

"The  fact  is,  sir,"  said  Sam,  w^th  a  slight  bow,  "the 
gov'ner's  been  a  drawin'  his  money." 

"  Worry  good,  Samivel,  werry  good,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
nodding  his  head  with  a  satisfied  air,  "  I  didn't  mean  to 
speak  harsh  to  you,  Sammy.  Werry  good.  That's  the 
vay  to  begin;  come  to  the  pint  at  once.  Werry  good  in- 
deed, Samivel." 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  his  head  an  extraordinary  numl)er 
of  times,  in  the  excess  of  his  gratification,  and  waited  in 
a  listening  attitude  for  Sam  to  resume  his  statement. 

"  You  may  sit  down,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  appre- 
hending that  the  interview  was  likely  to  prove  rather 
longer  than  he  had  expected. 

Sam  bowed  again  and  sat  down;  his  father  looking 
round,  he  continued: 

"Thegov'ner,  sir,  has  drawn  out  five  hundred  and 
thirty  pound." 

"  Reduced  counsels,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  in 
an  under  tone. 

"  It  don't  much  matter  vether  it's  reduced  counsels,  or 
wot  not,"  said  Sam;  "  five  liundnMl  and  thirty  pound  is 
the  sum,  ain't  it?" 

"  All  right,  Samivel,"  replied  :\lr.  Weller. 

"Tovichsum  he  has  added  for  the  house  in  id  bisnc^ss— " 

"Lease,  good-vill,  stock,  and  fixters,"  interposed  Mr, 
Weller. 


406  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


— "  As  much  as  makes  it/'  continued  Sam,  '^altogether, 
eleven  hundred  and  eighty  pound." 

''Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  am  delighted  to  hear  it. 
I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Weller,  on  having  done  so  well." 

"  Vait  a  minit,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  raising  his  hand 
in  a  deprecatory  manner.    "  Get  on,  Samivel." 

"  This  here  money,"  said  Sam,  with  a  little  hesitation, 
"  he's  anxious  to  put  someveres,  vere  he  knows  it  vill  be 
safe,  and  Pm  worry  anxious  too,  for  if  he  keeps  it,  he'll 
go  a  lendin'  it  to  somebody,  or  inwestin'  property  in 
horses,  or  droppin'  his  pocket-book  down  a  airy,  or 
makin'  an  Egyptian  mummy  of  his-self  in  some  vay  or 
another." 

"  Worry  good,  Samivel,"  observed  Mr.  Weller,  in  as 
complacent  a  manner  as  if  Sam  had  been  passing  the 
highest  eulogiums  on.  his  prudence  and  foresight. 
"  Worry  good." 

"  For  vich  reasons,"  continued  Sam,  plucking  nerv- 
ously at  the  brim  of  his  hat:  "for  vich  reasons  he's 
drawn  it  out  to-day,  and  come  here  vith  me  to  say,  least- 
vays  to  offer,  or  in  other  vords  to — " 

"  To  say  this  here,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  impa- 
tiently, "  that  it  ain't  o'  no  use  to  me;  Pm  a  goin'  to  vork  a 
coach  reg'lar,  and  ha'nt  got  noveres  to  keep  it  in,  unless 
I  vas  to  pay  the  guard  for  takin'  care  on  it,  or  to  put  it 
in  vun  o'  the  coach  pockets,  vich  'ud  be  a  temptation  to 
the  insides.  If  you'll  take  care  on  it  for  me,  sir,  I  shall 
be  worry  much  obliged  to  you.  P'raps,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
walking  up  to  Mr.  Pickwick  and  whispering  in  his  ear, 
"p'raps  it'll  go  a  little  vay  towards  the  expenses  o'  that 
ere  conwiction.  All  I  say  is,  just  you  keep  it  till  I  ask 
you  for  it  again."  With  these  words,  Mr.  Weller  placed 
the  pocket-book  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  hands,  caught  up  his 
hat,  and  ran  out  of  the  room  with  a  celerity  scarcely  to 
be  expected  from  so  corpulent  a  subject. 

"  Stop  him,  Sam!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly. 
"  Overtake  him;  bring  him  back  instantly!  Mr.  Weller 
— here — come  back!" 

Sam  saw  that  hi^- master's  injunctions  were  not  to  be 
disobeyed;  and  catching  his  father  by  the  arm  as  he  was 
descending  the  stairs,  dragged  him  back  by  main  force. 

"My  good  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  the  old 
man  by  the  hand,  "  your  honest  confidence  overpowers 
me." 


l^HE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


407 


^^I  don't  see  no  occasion  for  nothin'  o'  the  kind,  sir," 
replied  Mr.  Weller,  obstinately. 

''I  assure  you,  my  good  friend,  I  have  more  money 
than  I  can  ever  need;  far  more  than  a  man  at  my  age 
can  ever  live  to  spend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No  man  kno,ws  how  much  he  can  spend,  till  he  tries," 
observed  Mr.  Weller. 

'^Perhaps  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  but  as  I  have 
no  intention  of  trying  any  such  experiments,  I  am  not 
likely  to  come  to  want.  I  must  beg  you  to  take  this 
back,  Mr.  Weller." 

Worry  well,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  discontented 
look.  '^Mark  my  vords,  Sammy,  I'll  do  somethin' 
desperate  vith  this  here  property;  somethin'  desperate!" 

''You'd  better  not,"  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  reflected  for  a  short  time,  and  then,  button- 
ing up  his  coat  with  great  determination,  said: 
'Til  keep  a  pike." 
"  Wot!"  exclaimed  Sam. 

"  A  pike,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  through  his  set  teeth; 
^'  I'll  keep  a  pike.  Say  good  b'ye  to  your  father,  Samivel, 
I  dewote  the  remainder  o'  my  days  to  a  pike." 

This  threat  was  such  an  awful  one,  and  Mr.  Weller, 
besides  appearing  fully  resolved  to  carry  it  into  execu- 
tion, seemed  so  deeply  mortified  by  Mr.  Pickwick's 
refusal,  that  that  gentleman,  after  a  short  reflection, 
said: 

"Well,  well,  Mr.  Weller,  I  will  keep  the  money.  I 
can  do  more  good  with  it,  perhaps,  than  you  can." 

"Just  the  worry  thing,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
brightening  up;  "  o'  course  you  can,  sir." 

"Say  no  more  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  locking 
the  pocket-book  in  his  desk;  "  I  am  heartily  obliged  to 
you,  my  good  friend.  Now  sit  down  again;  I  want  to 
ask  your  advice." 

The  internal  laughter  occasioned  by  the  triumphant 
success  of  his  visit,  which  had  convulsed  not  only  Mr. 
Weller's  face,  but  his  arms,  legs,  and  body  also,  during 
the  locking  up  of  the  pocket-book,  suddenly  gave  pkice 
to  the  most  dignified  gravity  as  he  lu^ard  these  words. 

"Wait  outside  a  few  minutes,  Sam,  will  you?"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  immediately  withdrew. 

Mr.  Weller  looked  uncommonly  wise  and  very  much 


408  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


r 

amazed,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  discourse  by 
saying: 

"  You  are  not  an  advocate  for  matrimony,  I  think,  Mr. 
Weller?" 

Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head.  He  was  wholly  unable  to 
speak;  for  vague  thoughts  of  some  wicked  widow  having 
been  successful  in  her  designs  on  Mr.  Pickwick,  choked 
his  utterance. 

"  Did  you  happen  to  see  a  young  girl  down-stairs  when 
you  came  in  just  now  with  your  son?"  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Yes — I  see  a  young  gal,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  shortly. 

'^What  did  you  think  of  her,  now?  Candidly,  Mr. 
Weller,  what  did  you  think  of  her?" 

''I  thought  she  wos  worry  plump,  and  veil  made," 
said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  critical  air. 

So  she  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  so  she  is.  What  did 
you  think  of  her  manners,  from  what  you  saw  of 
her?" 

Worry  pleasant,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  Worry 
pleasant  and  conformable." 

The  precise  m.eaning  which  Mr.  Weller  attached  to 
this  last-mentioned  adjective  did  not  appear;  but,  as  it 
was  evident  from  the  tone  in  v^hich  he  used  it  that  it 
was  a  favourable  expression,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  as  well 
satisfied  as  if  he  had  been  thoroughly  enlightened  on  the 
subject. 

"  I  take  a  great  interest  in  her,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 
Mr.  Weller  coughed. 
I  mean  an  interest  in  her  doing  well,"  resumed  Mr. 
Pickwick;  "a  desire  that  she  may  be  comfortable  and 
prosperous.    You  understand?" 

Worry  clearly,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  who  understood 
nothing  yet. 

"  That  young  person,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  is  attached 
to  your  son." 

"  To  Samivel  Veller!"  exclaimed  the  parent. 
Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^'It's  nat'ral,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  after  some  considera- 
tion, ''nat'ral,  but  rayther  alarmin'.  Sammy  must  be 
careful." 

''How  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
''Worry  careful  that  he  don't  say  nothin'  to  her," 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


400 


responded  Mr.  Weller.  ''Werry  careful  that  he  ain't 
led  avay,  in  a  innocent  moment,  to  say  any  thin'  as  may 
lead  to  a  conwiction  for  breach.  You're  never  safe  vith 
'em,  Mr.  Pickwick,  ven  they  vunce  has  designs  on  you; 
there's  no  knowin'  vere  to  have  'em;  and  vile  you're 
a-considering  of  it,  they  have  you.  I  wos  married  fust, 
that  vay  myself,  sir,  and  Sammy  was  the  consekens  o' 
the  manoover." 

"  You  give  me  no  great  encouragement  to  conclude 
what  I  have  to  say,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''but  I 
had  better  do  so  at  once.  This  young  person  is  not  only 
attached  to  your  son,  Mr.  Weller,  but  your  son  is  at- 
tached to  her." 

''Veil,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "this  here's  a  pretty  sort  o' 
thing  to  come  to  a  father's  ears,  this  is!" 

"  I  have  observed  them  on  several  occasions,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  making  no  comment  on  Mr.  Weller's  last 
remark;  "and  entertain  no  doubt  at  all  about  it.  Sup- 
posing I  were  desirous  of  establishing  them  comfortably 
as  man  and  wife  in  some  little  business  or  situation, 
where  they  might  hope  to  obtain  a  decent  living,  what 
should  you  think  of  it,  Mr.  Weller  ?" 

At  first,  Mr.  Weller  received,  with  wry  faces,  a  pro- 
position involving  the  marriage  of  anybody  in  whom 
he  took  an  interest;  but,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  argued  the 
point  with  him,  and  laid  great  stress  on  the  tact  that 
Mary  was  not  a  widow,  he  gradually  became  more  tract- 
able. Mr.  Pickwick  had  great  influence  over  him;  and 
he  had  been  much  struck  with  Mary's  appearance,  hav- 
ing, in  fact,  bestowed  several  very  unfatherly  winks  upon 
her  already.  At  length  he  said  that  it  was  not  for  liiin  to 
oppose  Mr.  Pickwick's  inclination,  and  that  lie  would 
be  very  happy  to  yield  to  his  advice;  ui)on  which  Mr. 
Pickwick  joyfully  took  him  at  his  word,  and  called  Sam 
back  into  the  room. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  clearing  his  throat,  "your 
father  and  I  have  been  having  some  conversation  about 
you." 

"  About  you,  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  patron- 
izing and  impressive  voice. 

"I  am  not  so  blind,  Sam,  as  not  to  have  seen,  a  long 
time  since,  that  you  entertnin  somc^tliing  more  than  a 
friendly  feeling  towards  Mrs.  Winkle's  maid,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 


410 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  You  hear  this,  Samivel  ?"  said  Mr.  Weller  in  the 
same  judicial  form  of  speech  as  before. 

^^I  hope,  sir/'  said  Sam,  addressing  his  master,  ''I 
hope  there's  no  harm  in  a  young  man  takin'  notice  of 
a  young  'ooman  as  is  undeniably  good-looking  and 
well-conducted. " 

''Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  by  no  means,"  acquiesced  Mr.  Weller,  affably 
but  magisterially. 

''So  far  from  thinking  there  is  anything  wrong  in 
conduct  so  natural,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "it  is  my 
wish  to  assist  and  promote  your  wishes  in  this  respect. 
With  this  view  I  have  had  a  little  conversation  with  your 
father;  and  finding  that  he  is  of  my  opinion — " 

"  The  lady  not  bein'  a  widder,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller, 
in  explanation. 

"The  lady  not  being  a  widow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
smiling.  "  I  wish  to  free  you  from  the  restraint  which 
your  present  position  imposes  upon  you,  and  to  mark  my 
sense  of  your  fidelity  and  many  excellent  qualities,  by 
enabling  you.  to  marry  this  girl  at  once,  and  to  earn  an 
independent  livelihood  for  yourself  and  family.  I  shall 
be  proud,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  voice  had 
faltered  a  little  hitherto,  but  now  resumed  its  customary 
tone,  "  proud  and  happy  to  make  your  future  prospects 
in  life  my  grateful  and  peculiar  care." 

There  was  a  profound  silence  for  a  short  time,  and 
then  Sam  said  in  a  low  husky  sort  of  voice,  but  firmly, 
withal: 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  goodness, 
sir,  as  is  only  like  yourself;  but  it  can't  be  done." 

"  Can't  be  done!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"Samivel!"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  dignity. 

"I  say  it  can't  be  done,"  repeated  Sam,  in  a  louder 
key.    "  Wot's  to  become  of  you,  sir?" 

"My  good  fellow,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "the  recent 
changes  among  my  friends  will  alter  my  mode  of 
life  in  future,  entirely;  besides,  I  am  growing  older 
and  want  repose  and  quiet.  My  rambles,  Sam,  are 
over." 

"How  do  I  know  that 'ere,  sir?"  argued  Sam;  "you 
think  so  now!  S'pose  you  wos  to  change  your  mind, 
vich  is  not  unlikely,  for  youVe  the  spirit  o'  five-and- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


411 


tventy  in  you  still,  what  'ud  become  on  you  vithout  me? 
It  can't  be  done,  sir,  it  can't  be  done." 

Werry  good,  Samivel,  there's  a  good  deal  in  that," 
said  Mr.  Weller,  encouragingly. 

I  speak  after  long  deliberation,  Sam,  and  with  the 
certainty  that  I  shall  keep  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
shaking  his  head.  ^^New  scenes  have  closed  upon  me; 
my  rambles  are  at  an  end." 

''Werry  good,"  rejoined  Sam.  ''Then,  that's  the 
werry  best  reason  wy  you  should  alvays  have  somebody 
by  you  as  understands  you,  to  keep  you  up  and  make 
you  comfortable.  If  you  vant  a  more  polished/  sort  o' 
feller,  veil  and  good,  have  him;  but  vages  or  no  vages, 
notice  or  no  notice,  board  or  no  board,  lodgin'  or  no 
lodgin',  Sam  Veller,  as  you  took  from  the  old  inn  in  the 
Borough,  sticks  by  you,  come  what  come  may;  and  let 
ev'rythin'  and  ev'rybody  do  their  werry  fiercest,  notliin' 
shall  ever  perwent  it!" 

At  the  close  of  this  declaration,  which  Sam  made  with 
great  emotion,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  rose  from  his  chair, 
and  forgetting  all  consideration  of  time,  place,  or  pro- 
priety, vv^aved  his  hat  above  his  head,  and  gave  three 
vehement  cheers. 

"  My  good  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Mr.  Wel- 
ler had  sat  down  again,  rather  abashed  at  his  own  en- 
thusiasm, "you  are  bound  to  consider  the  young  woman 
also." 

"  I  do  consider  the  young  'ooman,  sir,"  said  Sam.  "  I 
have  considered  the  young  'ooman.  I've  spoke  to  her, 
IVe  told  her  how  I'm  sitivated,  she's  ready  to  vait  till 
I'm  ready,  and  I  believe  she  vill.  If  she  don't,  she's  not 
the  young  'ooman  I  take  her  for,  and  I  give  her  up  vitli 
readiness.  You've  know'd  me  afore,  sir.  My  mind's 
made  up,  and  nothin'  can  ever  alter  it." 

Who  could  combat  this  resolution?  Not  Mr.  Pickwick. 
He  derived,  at  that  moment,  more  pride  and  luxury  of 
feeling  from  the  disinterested  attachment  of  his  humble 
friends,  than  ten  thousand  protestations  from  thv,  great- 
est men  living  could  have  awakened  in  his  heart. 

While  this  conversation  was  passing  in  Mr.  Pickwick's 
room  a  little  old  gentleman  in  a  suit  of  snuff-coloured 
clothes,  followed  l)y  a  porter  cai-rying  a  small  portman- 
teau, presented  himself  bellow;  i\U'\  after  securing  a  IkmI 
for  the  night,  inquired  of  the  waiter  whether  one  Mrs, 


412 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


Winkle  was  staying  there,  to  which  question  the  waiter, 
of  course,  responded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Is  she  alone?"  inquired  the  little  old  gentleman. 

"  I  believe  she  is,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter;  "  I  can  call 
her  own  maid,  sir,  if  you — " 

''No,  I  don't  want  her,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
quickly.  ''Show  me  to  her  room  without  announcing 
me." 

"Eh,  sir?"  said  the  waiter. 

"Are  you  deaf?"  inquired  the  little  old  gentleman. 
"No,  sir." 

"Then  listen,  if  you  please.  Can  you  hear  me  now?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  That's  well.  Show  me  to  Mrs.  Winkle's  room  with- 
out announcing  me." 

As  the  little  old  gentleman  uttered  this  command,  he 
slipped  five  shillings  into  the  waiter's  hand,  and  looked 
steadily  at  him. 

"Really,  sir,"  said  the  waiter,  "I  don't  know,  sir, 
whether — " 

"Ah!  you'll  do  it,  I  see," said  the  little  old  gentleman. 
"  You  had  better  do  it  at  once.    It  will  save  time." 

There  was  something  so  very  cool  and  collected  in  the 
gentleman's  manner,  that  the  waiter  put  the  five  shil- 
lings in  his  pocket,  andledhimup-stairs  without  another 
word. 

"  This  is  the  room,  is  it?"  said  the  gentleman.  "  You 
may  go." 

The  waiter  complied,  wondering  much  who  the  gentle- 
man could  be,  and  what  he  wanted;  the  little  old  gentle- 
man waiting  till  he  was  out  of  sight,  tapped  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Arabella. 

"  Um,  a  pretty  voice,  at  any  rate,"  murmured  the  little 
old  gentleman;  "  but  that's  nothing."  As  he  said  this,  he 
opened  the  door  and  walked  in.  Arabella,  who  was  sit- 
ting at  work,  rose  on  beholding  a  stranger — a  little  con- 
fused, but  by  no  means  ungracefully  so. 

"  Pray  don't  rise,  ma'am,"  said  the  unknown,  walking 
in  and  closing  the  door  after  him.  "Mrs.  Winkle,  I  be- 
lieve?" 

Arabella  inclined  her  head. 

"Mrs.  Nathaniel  Winkle,  who  married  the  son  of  the 
old  man  at  Birmingham?"  said  the  stranger,  eyeing 
Arabella  with  visible  curiosity. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


413 


Again  Arabella  inclined  her  head,  and  looked  un- 
easily round,  as  if  uncertain  whether  to  call  for  assist- 
ance. 

I  surprise  you,  I  see,  ma'am,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
''Rather,  I  confess,"  replied  Arabella,  wonderingmore 
and  more. 

'•  I'll  take  a  chair,  i|  you'll  allow  me,  ma'am,"  said  the 
stranger. 

He  took  one;  and  drawing  a  spectacle-case  from  his 
pocket,  leisurely  pulled  out  a  pair  of  spectacles,  which 
he  adjusted  on  his  nose. 

"You  don't  know  me,  ma'am?"  he  said,  looking  so  in- 
tently at  Arabella  that  she  began  to  feel  alarmed. 

"No,  sir,"  she  replied,  timidly. 

"No,"  said  the  gentleman,  nursing  his  left  leg;  "I 
don't  know  how  you  should.  You  knoAv  my  name, 
though,  ma'am." 

"  Do  I?"  said  Arabella,  trembling,  though  she  scarcely 
knew  why.    "  May  I  ask  what  it  is?" 

"Presently,  ma'am,  presently,"  said  the  stranger,  not 
having  yet  removed  his  eyes  from  her  countenance. 
"You  have  been  recently  married,  ma'am?" 

"  I  have,"  replied  Arabella,  in  a  scarcely  audible  tone, 
laying  aside  her  work,  and  becoming  greatly  agitated 
as  a  thought,  that  had  occurred  to  her  before,  struck 
more  forcibly  upon  her  mind. 

"  Without  having  represented  to  your  husband  the 
propriety  of  first  consulting  his  father,  on  whom  he  is 
dependent,  I  think?"  said  the  stranger. 

Arabella  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"  Without  an  endeavour,  even,  to  ascertain,  by  some 
indirect  apfjeal,  what  were  the  old  man's  sentiments  on 
a  point  in  which  he  would  naturally  feel  much  inter- 
ested?" said  the  stranger. 

"  I  cannot  deny  it,  sir,"  said  Arabella. 

"And  without  liaving  sufficient  property  of  your  own 
to  afford  your  husband  any  permanent  assistance*  in  ex- 
change for  the  worldly  advantages  wliich  you  knvw  he 
would  have  gained  if  he  had  married  agreeably  t()  his 
father's  wishes?"  said  the  old  gc^utleinan.  This  is 
what  boys  and  girls  call  disinterestcMl  affliction,  till  the^ 
have  boys  and  girls  of  their  own,  and  tlu^ii  tlit^y  set*  it 
in  a  rougher  and  very  different  light!" 

Arabella's  tears  flowed  fast,  as  she  pleaded  in  (\xt(Mnia- 


4i4  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

tion,  that  she  was  young  and  inexperienced;  that  her 
attachment  had  alone  induced  her  to  take  the  step  to 
which  she  had  resorted;  and  that  she  had  been  deprived 
of  the  counsel  and  guidance  of  her  parents  almost  from 
infancy. 

"  It  was  wrong/'  said  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  milder 
tone,  very  wrong.  It  was  fooksh,  romantic,  unbusi- 
ness-like." 

It  was  my  fault;  all  my  fault,  sir,"  replied  poor  Ara- 
bella, weeping. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  it  was  not  your 
fault  that  he  fell  in.  love  with  you,  I  suppose.  Yes  it 
was,  though,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  looking  rather 
slyly  at  Arabella.  ^'It  was  your  fault.  He  couldn't 
help  it." 

This  little  compliment,  or  the  little  gentleman's  odd 
way  of  paying  it,  or  his  altered  manner — so  much  kinder 
than  it  was  at  first — or  all  three  together,  forced  a  smile 
from  Arabella  in  the  midst  of  her  tears. 

"  Where's  your  husband?"  inquired  the  old  gentleman, 
abruptly;  stopping  a  smile  which  was  just  coming  over 
his  own  face. 

'^I  expect  him  every  instant,  sir,"  said  Arabella.  ^^I 
persuaded  him  to  take  a  walk  this  morning.  He  is  very 
low  and  wretched  at  not  having  heard  from  his  father." 

Low,  is  he?"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "Serve  him 
right!" 

'^He  feels  it  on  my  account,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Ara- 
bella; and  indeed,  sir,  I  feel  it  deeply  on  his.  1  have 
been  the  sole  means  of  bringing  him  to  his  present 
condition." 

''Don't  mind  it  on  his  account,  my  dear,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.  "  It  serves  him  right.  I  am  glad  of  it — 
actually  glad  of  it,  as  far  as  he  is  coi^cerned." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  the  old  gentleman's 
lips,  when  footsteps  were  heard  ascending  the  stairs, 
which  he  and  Arabella  seemed  both  to  recognize  at  the 
same  moment.  The  little  gentleman  turned  pale;  and 
making  a  strong  effort  to  appear  composed,  stood  up,  as 
Mr.  Winkle  entered  the  room. 

''Father!"  cried  Mr.  Winkle,  recoiling  in  amazement. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  little  old  gentleman.  "  Well, 
sir,  what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me?" 

Mr.  Winkle  remained  silent. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


415 


''You  are  ashamed  of  yourself,  I  hope,  sir,"  said  the 
old  gentleman. 
Still  Mr.  Winkle  said  nothing. 

"  Are  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  sir,  or  are  you  not!-^'' 
inquired  the  old  gentleman. 

''No,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  drawing  Arabella's 
arm  through  his.  "  I  am  not  ashamed  of  myself,  or  of 
my  wife  either. 

"  Upon  my  word!"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  ironically. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  have  done  anything  which  has 
lessened  your  affection  for  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle; 
"  but  I  will  say,  at  the  same  time,  that  I  have  no  reason 
to  be  ashamed  of  having  this  lady  for  my  wife,  nor  you 
of  having  her  for  a  daughter." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Nat,"  said  the  old  gentleman  in 
an  altered  voice.  "  Kiss  me,  my  love;  you  are  a  very 
charming  little  daughter-in-law  after  all!" 

In  a  few  minutes'  time,  Mr.  Winkle  went  in  search  of 
Mr.  Pickwick,  and  returning  with  that  gentleman,  pre- 
sented him  to  his  father,  whereupon  they  shook  hands 
for  five  minutes  incessantly. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  all  your 
kindness  to  my  son,"  said  old  Mr.  Winkle,  in  a  bluff, 
straightforward  way.  "  I  am  a  hasty  fellow,  and  when 
I  saw  you  last,  I  was  vexed  and  taken  by  surprise.  I 
have  judged  for  myself  now,  and  am  more  than  satisfied. 
Shall  I  make  any  more  apologies,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

"  Not  one,"  replied  that  gentleman.  "  You  have  done 
the  only  thing  wanting  to  complete  my  happiness." 

Hereupon  there  was  another  shaking  of  hands  for  five 
minutes  longer,  accompanied  by  a  great  number  of 
complimentary  speeches,  which,  besides  being  coini)li- 
mentary,  had  the  additional  and  very  novel  recom- 
mendation of  being  sincere. 

Sam  had  dutifully  seen  his  father  to  the  Belle  Sauvage, 
when,  on  returning,  he  encountered  tlie  fat  boy  in  the 
court,  who  had  been  cliarged  with  the  delivery  of  a 
note  from  Emily  Wardle. 

"I  say,"  said  Joe,  who  was  unusually  loquacious, 
"what  a  pretty  girl  Mary  is,  isn't  she?  I  am  so  fond  of 
her,  I  am!" 

Mr.  Weller  made  no  verbal  remark  in  reply,  but  eye- 
ing the  fat  boy  for  a  momcint,  (juite  transfixed  at  his 
presumption,  led  liim  )>y  tlie  collar  to  the  cornier,  and 


416 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


dismissed  him  with  a  harmless  but  ceremonious  kick; 
after  which^  he  walked  home,  whistling. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

IN  WHICH  THE  PICKWICK  CLUB  IS  FINALLY  DISSOLVED, 
AND  EVERYTHING  CONCLUDED  TO  THE  SATISFACTION 
OF  EVERYBODY. 

For  a  whole  week  after  the  happy  arrival  of  Mr. 
Winkle  from  Birmingham,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam 
Weller  were  from  home  all  day  long,  only  returning 
just  in  time  for  dinner,  and  then  wearing  an  air  of 
mystery  and  importance  quite  foreign  to  their  natures. 
It  was  evident  that  very  grave  and  eventful  proceed- 
ings were  on  foot;  but  various  surmises  were  afloat,  re- 
specting their  precise  character.  Some  (among  whom 
was  Mr.  Tupman)  were  disposed  to  think  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick contemplated  a  matrimonial  alliance  ;  but  this  idea 
the  ladies  most  strenuously  repudiated.  Others,  rather 
inclined  to  the  belief  that  he  had  projected  some  dis- 
tant tour,  and  was  at  present  occupied  in  effecting  the 
preliminary  arrangements;  but  this  again  was  stoutly 
denied  by  Sam  himself,  who  had  unequivocally  stated, 
when  cross-examined  by  Mary,  that  no  new  journeys 
were  to  be  undertaken.  At  length,  when  the  brains  of 
the  whole  party  had  been  racked,  for  six  long  days,  by 
unavailing  speculation,  it  was  unanimously  resolved 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  should  be  called  upon  to  explain  his 
conduct,  and  to  state  distinctly  why  he  had  thus  ab- 
sented himself  from  the  society  of  his  admiring  friends. 

With  this  view,  Mr.  Wardle  invited  the  full  circle  to 
dinner  at  the  Adelphi;  and  the  decanters  having  been 
twice  sent  round,  opened  the  business. 

"We  are  all  anxious  to  know,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, "  what  we  have  done  to  offend  you,  and  to  induce 
you  to  desert  us  and  devote  yourself  to  these  solitary 
walks." 

"Are  you?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "It  is  singular 
enough, that  I  had  intended  to  volunteer  a  full  explana- 
tion this  very  day;  so,  if  you  will  give  me  another  glass 
of  wine,  1  will  satisfy  your  curiosity." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


417 


The  decanters  passed  from  hand  to  hand  witli  un- 
wonted briskness,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  hooking  ronud  ou 
the  faces  of  his  friends,  with  a  cheerful  smile  proccnnlv  .  : : 
All  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  among  us." 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  mean  the  marriage  tliat  has  taken 
pkxce,  and  the  marriage  that  tvill  take  place,  with  the 
changes  they  involve,  rendered  it  necessary  for  me  to 
think,  soberly  and  at  once,  upon  my  future  plans.  I 
determined  on  retiring  to  some  quiet  pretty  neighbour- 
liood  in  the  vicinity  of  London;  I  saw  a  house  which 
exactly  suited  my  fancy;  I  have  taken  it  and  furnished 
iu.  It  is  fully  prepared  for  my  reception,  and  I  intend 
entering  upon  it  at  once,  trusting  that  I  may  yet  live 
to  spend  many  quiet  years  in  peaceful  retirement: 
cheered  through  life  by  the  society  of  my  friends,  aud 
followed  in  death  by  their  affectionate  remembrance.'' 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and  a  low  murmur  ran 
round  the  table. 

'*The  house  I  have  taken,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '^is  at 
Dulwich;  it  has  a  large  garden,  and  is  situated  in  one  of 
the  most  pleasant  spots  near  London.  It  has  been  fitted 
up  with  every  attention  to  substantial  comfort;  ])erliaps 
to  a  little  eleganca besides;  but  of  that  you  shall  judge 
for  yourselves.  Sam  accompanies  me  there.  I  have 
engaged,  on  Perker's  representation,  a  housekeeper — a 
very  old  one — and  such  other  servants  as  she  thinks 
I  shall  require.  I  jjropose  to  consecrate  this  little  retreat, 
by  having  a  ceremony,  in  which  I  take  a  great  interest, 
performed  there.  I  wish,  if  my  friend  Wardle  entertains 
no  objection,  that  his  daughter  should  be  married  fi'om 
my  new  house,  on  the  day  I  take  possession  of  it.  The 
happiness  of  young  people,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  a  little 
moved,  "  has  ever  been  the  chief  pleasure  of  my  life.  It 
will  warm  my  heart  to  witness  the  hai)piness  of  tliose 
friends  who  are  dearest  to  me,  beneath  my  own  roof." 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused  again:  and  Emily  and  Arabella 
sobbed  audibly. 

"I  have  co:nmunlca!(ul,  ])()th ])ers()nally a^id  by  le'tU^-, 
with  the  club."  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  accpiainling 
them  with  my  intention.  During  our  long  absence,  it 
has  sufl'cTed  much  from  internal  dissensions;  and  the 
withdrawal  of  my  name,  coupled  with  this  and  oth(M* 
circumstances,  has  occasioned  its  dissolution.  Tlu^ 
Pickwick  Club  exists  no  longer-." 


418  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


I  shall  never  regret/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  I  shall  never  regret  having  devoted  the  greater 
part  of  two  years  to  mixing  with  different  varieties  and 
shades  of  human  character:  frivolous  as  my  pursuit  of 
novelty  may  have  appeared  to  many.  Nearly  the  whole 
of  my  previous  life  having  been  devoted  to  business  and 
the  pursuit  of  wealth,  numerous  scenes  of  which  I  had 
no  previous  conception  have  dawned  upon  me — I  hope 
to  the  enlargment  of  my  mind,  and  the  improvement  of 
my  understanding.  If  I  have  done  but  little  good,  I 
trust  I  have  done  less  harm,  and  that  none  of  my  adven- 
tures will  be  other  than  a  source  of  amusing  and  pleas- 
ant recollection  to  me  in  the  decline  of  life.  God  bless 
you  all." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  filled  and  drained  a 
bumper  with  a  trembling  hand;  and  his  eyes  moistened 
as  his  friends  rose  with  one  accord,  and  pledged  him 
from  their  hearts. 

There  were  very  few  preparatory  arrangements  to  be 
made  for  the  marriage  of  Mr.  Snodgrass.  As  he  had 
neither  father  nor  mother,  and  had  been  in  his  minority  a 
ward  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  that  gentleman  was  perfectly 
well  acquainted  with  his  possessions  and  prospects.  His 
account  of  both  was  quite  satisfactory  to  Wardle — as 
almost  any  other  account  would  have  been ;  for  the  good 
old  gentleman  was  overflowing  with  hilarity  and 
kindness — and  a  handsome  portion  having  been  bestowed 
upon  Emily,  the  marriage  was  fixed  to  take  place  on  the 
fourth  day  from  that  time;  the  suddenness  of  which 
preparations  reduced  three  dressmakers  and  a  tailor  to 
the  extreme  verge  of  insanity. 

Getting  post-horses  to  the  carriage,  old  Wardle  started 
off  next  day,  to  bring  his  mother  up  to  town.  Com- 
municating his  intelligence  to  the  old  lady,  with  char- 
acteristic impetuosity,  she  instantly  fainted  away;  but 
being  promptly  revived,  ordered  the  brocaded  silk  gown 
to  be  packed  up  forthwith,  and  proceeded  to  relate  some 
circumstances  of  a  similar  nature  attending  the  mar- 
riage of  the  eldest  daughter  of  Lady  Tollimglower, 
deceased,  which  occupied  three  hours  in  the  recital,  and 
were  not  half  finished  at  last. 

Mrs.  Trundle  had  to  be  informed  of  all  the  mighty 
preparations  that  were  making  in  London:  and  being  in 
a  delicate  state  of  health  was  informed  thereof  through 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


419 


Mr.  Trundle,  lest  the  news  should  be  too  much  for  her; 
but  it  was  not  too  much  for  her,  inasmuch  as  she  at  once 
wrote  off  to  Muggieton,  to  order  a  new  cap  and  a  black 
satin  gown,  and  moreover  avowed  her  determination  of 
being  present  at  the  ceremony.  Hereupon,  Mr.  Trundle 
called  in  the  doctor,  and  the  doctor  said  Mrs.  Trundle 
ought  to  know  best  how  she  felt  herself,  to  which  Mrs. 
Trundle  replied  that  she  felt  herself  quite  equal  to  it, 
and  that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  go:  upon  wliich 
the  doctor,  who  was  a  wise  and  discreet  doctor,  and 
knew  what  was  good  for  himself  as  well  as  for  other 
people,  said  that  perhaps  if  Mrs.  Trundle  stopped  at 
home  she  might  hurt  herself  more  by  fretting  than  by 
going,  so  perhaps  she  had  better  go.  And  she  did  go: 
the  doctor  with  great  attention  sending  in  a  half  dozen 
of  medicine,  to  be  drunk  upon  the  road. 

In  addition  to  these  points  of  distraction  Wardle  was 
intrusted  with  two  small  letters  to  two  small  young  ladies 
who  were  to  act  as  bridesmaids,  upon  the  receipt  of 
which  the  two  young  ladies  were  driven  to  despair  by 
having  no  ''things"  ready  for  so  important  an  occa- 
sion, and  no  time  to  make  them  in — a  circumstance 
which  appeared  to  afford  the  two  worthy  papas  of  the 
two  small  young  ladies  rather  a  feeling  of  satisfaction 
than  otherwise.  However,  old  frocks  were  trimmed, 
and  new  bonnets  made,  and  the  young  ladies  looked  as 
well  as  could  possibly  have  been  expected  of  them:  and 
as  they  cried  at  the  subsequent  ceremony  in  the  })r()i)('r 
places,  and  trembled  at  the  i-ight  times,  tliey  accpiitted 
themselves  to  the  admiration  of  all  beholdc^rs. 

How  the  two  poor  relations  ever  reached  Loudon — 
whether  they  walked,  or  got  behind  coach(^s,  or  procured 
lifts  in  wagons,  or  carried  each  other  by  turns— is  un- 
certain, but  tliere  they  were,  before  \Vardl(N  nnd  the 
very  first  people  that  knock(Ml  at  the  door  of  Mr.  J*ick- 
wick's  house,  on  the  bridal  morning,  were  tlu^  two  poor 
relations,  all  smiles  and  shirt  collar. 

They  were  welcomed  heartily  though,  for  riches  or 
poverty  had  no  influence  on  Mr.  Pi(rkwick;  the  now  serv- 
ants were  all  alacrity  and  readiness;  Sam  was  in  a 
most  unrivalled  state  of  high  si)irits  aud  excite- 
ment; and  Mary  was  glowing  with  beauty  mid  suuirt 
ribands. 

The  bridegroom,  who  h;ul  been  stayiug  at  tli<'  liouse 


420  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


for  two  or  three  days  previous,  sallied  forth  gallantly  to 
Dulwich  church  to  meet  the  bride:  attended  by  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, Ben  Allen,  Bob  Sawyer,  and  Mr.  Tupman:  with' 
Sam  Weller  outside,  having  at  his  button-hole  a  white 
favour,  the  gift  of  his  lady  love,  and  clad  in  a  new  and 
gorgeous  suit  of  livery  invented  for  the  occasion.  They 
were  met  by  the  Wardles,  and  the  Winkles,  and  the  bride 
and  bridesmaids,  and  the  Trundles;  and  the  ceremony 
having  been  performed,  the  coaches  rattled  back  to  Mr. 
Pickwick's  to  breakfast,  where  little  Mr.  Perker  already 
awaited  them. 

Here,  all  the  light  clouds  of  the  more  solemn  part  of 
the  proceedings  passed  away;  every  face  shone  forth 
joyously;  and  nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  congratula- 
tions and  commendations.  Everything  was  so  beauti- 
ful! The  lawn  in  front,  the  garden  behind,  the  minia- 
ture conservatory,  the  dining-room,  the  drawing-room, 
the  bed-rooms,  the  smoking-room,  and  above  all  the 
study,  with  its  pictures  and  easy  chairs,  and  odd  cabi- 
nets, and  queer  tables,  and  books  out  of  number,  with  a 
large  cheerful  window  opening  upon  a  pleasant  lawn 
and  commanding  a  pretty  landscape,  just  dotted  here 
and  there  with  little  houses  almost  hidden  by  the  trees; 
and  then  the  curtains,  and  the  carpets,  and  the  chairs, 
and  the  sofas!  Everything  was  so  beautiful,  so  com- 
pact, so  neat,  and  in  such  exquisite  taste,  said  every- 
body, that  there  really  was  no  deciding  what  to  admire 
most. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  stood  Mr.  Pickwick,  his 
countenance  lighted  up  with  smiles,  which  the  heart  of 
no  man,  woman,  or  child,  could  resist:  himself  the  hap- 
piest of  the  group:  shaking  hands,  over  and  over  agam 
with  the  same  people,  and  when  his  own  were  not  so 
employed,  rubbing  them  with  pleasure:  turning  round 
in  a  different  direction  at  every  fresh  expression  of 
gratification  or  curiosity,  and  inspiring  everybody  with 
his  looks  of  gladness  and  delight. 

Breakfast  is  announced.  Mr.  Pickwick  leads  the  old 
lady  (who  has  been  very  eloquent  on  the  subject  of  Lady 
Tollimglower)  to  the  top  of  a  long  table;  Wardle  takes 
the  bottom;  the  friends  arrange  themselves  on  either 
side;  Sam  takes  his  station  behind  his  master's  chair; 
the  laughter  and  talking  cease;  Mr.  Pickwick,  having 
said  grace,  pauses  for  an  instant,  and  looks  round  him. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


1-21 


As  he  does  so,  the  tears  roll  down  his  cheeks,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  joy. 

Let  us  leave  our  old  friend  in  one  of  those  moments 
of  unmixed  happiness,  of  which,  if  we  seek  them,  there 
are  ever  some,  to  cheer  our  transitory  existence  here. 
There  are  dark  shadows  on  the  earth,  but  its  liglits  are 
stronger  in  the  contrast.  Some  men,  like  bats  or  owls, 
have  better  eyes  for  the  darkness  than  for  the  light;  we, 
who  have  no  such  optical  powers,  are  better  pleased  to 
take  our  last  parting  look  at  the  visionary  companions 
of  many  solitary  hours,  when  the  brief  sunshine  of  the 
world  is  blazing  full  upon  them. 


It  is  the  fate  of  most  men  who  mingle  with  the  world, 
and  attain  even  the  prime  of  life,  to  make  many  real 
friends,  and  lose  them  in  the  course  of  nature.  It  is  the 
fate  of  all  authors  or  chroniclers  to  create  imaginary 
friends,  and  lose  them  in  the  course  of  art.  Nor  is  this 
the  full  extent  of  their  misfortunes;  for  they  are  required 
to  furnish  an  account  of  them  besides. 

In  compliance  with  this  custom — unquestionably  a  bad 
one — we  subjoin  a  few  biographical  words,  in  relation 
to  the  party  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  assembled.  ' 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Winkle  being  fully  received  into  favour 
by  the  old  gentleman,  were,  shortly  afterwards,  installed 
in  a  newly-built  house,  not  half  a  mile  from  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's. Mr.  Winkle,  being  engaged  in  the  city  as  agent 
or  town  correspondent  of  his  father,  exchanged  liis  old 
costume  for  the  ordinary  dress  of  Englishmen,  and  pre- 
sented all  the  external  appearance  of  a  civilized  Chris- 
tian ever  afterwards. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Snodgrass  settled  at  Dingley  Dell,  wliere 
they  purchased  and  cultivated  a  small  farm,  more  for 
occupation  than  profit.  Mr.  Snodgrass,  being  occasion- 
ally abstracted  and  melancholy,  is  to  this  day  reputed  a 
great  poet  among  his  friends  and  acquaintancc\  although 
we  do  not  find  that  he  has  ever  writt(^n  anything  to  en- 
courage the  belief.  Th(^re  are  many  celebrated  charac- 
ters, literary,  philosophical,  and  otherwise,  who  hold  a 
high  reputation  on  a  similar  tcmure. 

Mr.  Tupman,  when  his  friends  married  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick settled,  took  lodgings  at  Richmond,  where  he  has 


422  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


ever  since  resided.  He  walks  constantly  on  the  Terrace 
during  the  summer  months,  with  a  youthful  and  jaunty 
air,  which  has  rendered  hini  the  admiration  of  the  nu- 
merous elderly  ladies  of  single  condition  who  reside  in 
the  vicinity.    He  has  never  proposed  again. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  having  previously  passed  through 
the  Gazette,  passed  over  to  Bengal,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen:  both  gentlemen  having  received  surgi- 
gical  appointments  from  the  East  India  Company.  They 
each  had  the  yellow  fever  fourteen  times,  and  then  re- 
solved to  try  a  little  abstinence;  since  which  period 
they  have  been  doing  well. 

Mrs.  Bardell  let  lodgings  to  many  conversable  single 
gentlemen,  with  great  profit,  but  never  brought  any 
more  actions  for  breach  of  promise  of  marriage.  Her 
attorneys,  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  continue  in  busi- 
ness, from  which  they  realize  a  large  income,  and  in 
which  they  are  universally  considered  among  the 
sharpest  of  the  sharp. 

Sam  Weller  kept  his  word,  and  remained  unmarried 
for  two  years.  The  old  housekeeper  dying  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  Mr.  Pickwick  promoted  Mary  to  the  situa- 
tion, on  condition  of  her  marrying  Mr.  Weller  at  once, 
which  she  did  without  a  murmur.  From  the  circum- 
stance of  two  sturdy  little  boys  having  been  repeatedly 
seen  at  the  gate  of  the  back  garden,  there  is  reason  to 
suppose  that  Sam  has  some  family. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  oTevri  n  coach  for  twelve  months, 
but  being  afflicted  with  the  gout,  was  compelled  to  retire. 
The  contents  of  the  pocket-book  had  been  so  well  in- 
vested for  him,  however,  by  Mr.  Pickwick,  that  he  had 
a  handsome  independence  to  retire  on,  upon  which  he 
still  lives,  at  an  excellent  public-house  near  Shooter's 
Hill,  where  he  is  quite  reverenced  as  an  oracle:  boasting 
very  much  of  his  intimacy  with  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  re- 
taining a  most  unconquerable  aversion  to  widows. 

Mr.  Pickwick  himself  continued  to  reside  in  his  new 
house,  employing  his  leisure  hours  in  arranging  the 
memoranda  which  he  afterwards  presented  to  the  secre- 
tary of  the  once  famous  club,  or  in  hearing  Sam  Weller 
read  aloud,  with  such  remarks  as  suggested  themselves 
to  his  mind,  which  never  failed  to  afi'ord  Mr.  Pickwick 
great  amusement.  He  was  much  troubled,  at  first,  by 
tho  numerous  applications  which  were  made  to  liiiu  by 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


423 


Mr.  Snodgrass,  Mr.  Winlde,  and  Mr.  Trundle,  to  act  as 
godfather  to  their  offspring,  but  he  has  become  used  to 
it  now,  and  officiates  as  a  matter  of  course.  He  never 
had  occasion  to  regret  his  bounty  to  Mr.  Jingle;  for  both 
that  person  and  Job  Trotter  became,  in  time,  worthy 
members  of  society,  although  they  have  always  steadily 
objected  to  return  to  the  scenes  of  their  old  haunts  and 
temptations.  Mr.  Pickwick  is  somewhat  infirm  now; 
but  he  retains  all  his  former  juvenility  of  spirit,  and 
may  still  be  frequently  seen,  contemplating  the  pictures 
in  the  Dulwich  Gallery,  or  enjoying  a  walk  about  the 
pleasant  neighbourhood  on  a  fine  day.  He  is  known  by 
all  the  poor  people  about,  who  never  fail  to  take  their 
hats  off,  as  he  passes,  with  great  respect;  the  children 
idolize  him;  and  so  indeed  does  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood. Every  year  he  repairs  to  a  large  family  merry- 
making at  Mr.  Wardle's;  on  this,  as  on  all  other  occasions, 
he  is  invariably  attended  by  the  faithful  Sam,  between 
whom  and  his  master  there  exists  a  steady  and  recipro- 
cal attachment,  which  nothing  but  death  will  terminate. 


THE  END. 


• 


9 


:1f 


